“Ouch, Harry!”
“Sorry,” said Harry. It had not taken him long to find everybody again, and they had just Apparated into the foyer of the Ministry, which was dimmer and more shadowy than Harry had ever seen it. With the coming of evening, the lamps were burning low, and the place was virtually empty except for a few witches and wizards exiting the room through the many fireplaces. Upon appearing in the Ministry, Harry had lost his balance and staggered into Hermione.
“Did I tread on your foot?” Harry asked apologetically, righting himself with care.
“Yes, but never mind,” said Hermione kindly, trying not to wince. “It must be difficult keeping your balance with your leg like that. I still agree with the Healer, you should’ve stayed in St Mungo’s till it healed properly “”
“So, what are we doing here again?” interrupted Fred cheerfully. The twins had insisted on joining them.
“We’re going to see Umbridge first about Lupin,” said Harry, beginning to limp towards the lift, ignoring the predictable stares and gasps he was getting from the few people he passed. “If she’s still here…it’s pretty late. Which floor is her office on?”
“’Scuse me, I dunno what you’re all doing visiting at this time of night, but you’ll need to get a badge and have your wand checked,” a bored voice drawled at them. Harry turned to see Eric Munch, the Ministry Watchwizard, sitting behind his desk holding his hand out for their wands. Impatient to get on, Harry ignored him and they stumbled towards the lift, leaving Eric behind them with a slightly baffled look on his face. Thankfully, the lift was empty, and they crowded inside before Eric had time to do anything but look gormlessly after them.
“Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, that’ll be where Umbridge is,” said Harry confidently. “Didn’t the Prophet mention she’d changed her job to one dealing just with part-humans? Twisted old toad.” He punched a button and the lift began to jerk upwards. When they reached the fourth floor, the lift doors slid open. The six of them tumbled out into the corridor, which was long, cream-coloured and lined with rows of identical white-painted doors.
“Er,” said Harry, having no idea what to do next. “Which do you reckon is Umbridge’s?”
“That one,” said Fred promptly, pointing at a door quite close to them.
“How d’you know that?” said Harry in surprise, hobbling over to it.
“I don’t, you plank, just knew you'd fall for it.” Harry shot Fred a dirty look.
“Excuse me,” said Hermione’s voice suddenly and clearly. Harry turned to see who she was speaking to. A tall, thin witch in violet robes was walking down the corridor.
“Can I help?” she asked, looking mildly surprised to see them all gathered there. Harry moved hastily behind Ron so he wouldn’t be noticed; him being around always seemed to complicate matters.
“I was just wondering if you could tell us where to find Dolores Umbridge’s office,” said Hermione politely.
“It’s number twenty-nine,” said the woman. “What do you wish to talk to her about?” She looked suspicious. “You should know that she doesn’t like kids…and I think that she’s busy right now. Maybe you should leave..”
Harry changed his mind about hiding. “We’re here to talk about some, er, private matters,” he said politely, stepping out from behind Ron. “We’d rather not disclose our business. The woman’s eyes flicked to his scar and her eyes widened.
“Oh! Oh my goodness…of “ of course Mr Potter “ I’ll just leave you to it….” She hurried off. Harry smirked. That newspaper article had proved slightly useful, then.
They located the door upon which was hung a small plaque engraved with “29 “ DJU”. Harry walked awkwardly over to it, raised his fist and knocked, hard, on the wood.
“Enter!” piped a sugary-sweet, girlish voice from within, and Harry shoved the door open.
Dolores Umbridge was sitting behind her desk, her simpering toad-like face as repulsive as ever. Harry winced at the sight of the familiar fluffy pink cardigan and the black velvet bow nestled in her silvery curls. She was surrounded by official-looking witches and wizards; it seemed they had interrupted a meeting. At the sight of Harry, several of them “ mostly witches “ let out gasps. A completely bald wizard with a long ginger moustache whom Harry had never seen before in his life leapt up from his chair. “My goodness, it’s Harry Potter,” he said excitedly. He went eagerly towards Harry, hand outstretched. “Mr Potter, come in, so glad to meet you “”
“Sit down, Wodderspoon, and remember whose office this is before you begin inviting people in,” snapped Umbridge coldly, her eyes turning flint-like as she gazed at Harry. The bald wizard sank meekly back into his chair. “Mr Potter.” Umbridge’s wide mouth stretched into an insincere smile. “What an unexpected pleasure, and at such a late hour! We all believed to you be recuperating in St Mungo’s…and what can I do for you?”
Harry breathed heavily, glaring at her. “I’ve come to talk about Remus Lupin,” he said forcefully. “You’ve got to release him, you’re making a mistake.” An audible murmur went around the room at these words, and Harry saw several of the people in the room exchange interested glances.
Umbridge’s eyebrows went up. “Lupin?” she said, pretending to think very hard. “Oh! You mean the half-breed beast currently taking up space in Azkaban? I’m sorry, you were talking about the werewolf as though it were human.”
Harry's blood boiled. "Watch it," he growled, and his hand twitched towards his wand. Several of the wizards rose at this, and one little witch squeaked, “Ooh!” Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm from behind before he could do anything.
“Temper, temper, we wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble now, would we, Mr Potter? And you’ve brought your little sidekicks with you? Let me see them.”
The others crowded slowly into the room, looking at Umbridge with expressions of varying degrees of dislike. “Oh, yes, I remember you,” said Umbridge distastefully, surveying Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the twins as though they were something very nasty she had found on the sole of her shoe. “Especially you.” This aside was directed at Fred and George, who smirked.
“Ah, yes, the glorious fireworks display. Best we ever had,” sighed Fred reminiscently.
“Is the swamp still there, Professor?” George inquired innocently, and Umbridge snarled.
“Oh, you think you’re very clever, boys, but perhaps you forget that the fate of the werewolf is in my hands…I’m afraid he won’t be with us much longer. We were just discussing exactly how long, as a matter of fact.” The snarl had changed to a look of satisfaction; there was a cold gleam in Umbridge’s eyes.
“You - you horrible woman,” hissed Hermione, letting go of Harry’s arm and stepping right in front of Umbridge’s desk. “You don’t know anything about Professor Lupin, he’s on our side, he’s“”
“Be quiet, little girl, you don’t have any idea what you’re saying,” Umbridge interrupted Hermione with cold authority, and several of the witches and wizards in the room nodded vigorously in agreement.
“Werewolves present a very terrible threat to our society; it is our duty to exterminate them,” said a very pompous-looking man with thin, dark hair and unusually large nostrils. Hermione’s eyes narrowed and Ron jumped in to defend her.
“You’ve got no proof,” he said loudly. “Lupin’s never harmed anyone, he’s always been careful!” Harry thought of Lupin’s moonlit escapades with the Marauders and tried not to catch Hermione’s eye.
“Dolores, perhaps we should keep these children for questioning,” piped up a hard-faced witch, breaking the short silence that had fallen after Ron stopped speaking. “They know the werewolf; they could provide information for the trial...”
“What! You can’t detain Harry Potter for questioning,” objected the bald wizard, standing up with a shocked expression on his face just as Harry snorted contemptuously.
“If you don’t stay in your seat from now on, Wodderspoon…” purred Umbridge, tapping her painted pink fingernails ominously on the desk. “Then I’ll “”
“I’m sitting, I’m sitting!” Wodderspoon said hurriedly, dropping back down and folding his hands meekly in his lap.
“As if I’d stay if you tried to keep me,” said Harry scornfully. “When’s Lupin’s trial?”
“That’s top-secret Ministry information, Mr Potter,” Umbridge told him sweetly, at the exact same moment that Wodderspoon put in helpfully,
“It’s this Thursday, Harry!”
Umbridge shot daggers at Wodderspoon. “Shut up, you blithering idiot.” Ginny giggled.
“Cheers, Mr Wodderspoon,” said Harry, grinning, and the bald wizard, who had cringed in fear at Umbridge’s death glare, perked up again. Harry turned back to Umbridge.
“Right, as you lot obviously aren’t going to change your minds about sentencing him, we’ll be attending this trial in Lupin’s defence,” Harry informed her. Umbridge’s eyes widened very slightly, but she soon regained her composure.
“Oh, I don’t think that the Minister would agree to that,” she said sweetly. “No, no, he was planning on a very private, select trial.”
“Was he?” chipped in Wodderspoon, looking surprised. “But I thought you said earlier it was going to be a public “”
Umbridge snapped. “Get out of my office, you half-witted numbskull!” Harry wouldn’t have been surprised if she started breathing fire. Wodderspoon blinked, terrified, and scurried towards the exit.
“Wonderful to meet you, Harry Potter!” he whispered as he passed Harry, then whipped nimbly around the door before Umbridge could say anything more to him.
“Er,” said Harry, a little thrown off track, and the twins came to his rescue.
“So!” said Fred cheerfully. “As it’s a public trial “”
““ as seemed to have slipped your small brain “”
“Don’t compliment her, George.”
“Beg pardon, I mean your non-existent brain, it looks as though we will be attending “” George broke off. Umbridge had pulled out her very short wand from beneath her pink cardigan.
“All right, keep your wig on.”
“No need to be impolite.”
“You should know better than to insult an eminent Ministry official such as myself,” Umbridge hissed, all sugary tones forgotten.
Harry pulled out his own wand. “Don’t make me do something stupid,” he warned her.
Umbridge shot a look at the other witches and wizards in the room, and after a brief moment of hesitation, they all reached into their robes. Soon twelve wands pointed directly at Harry’s chest, and he paused. He hadn’t meant to end up in this sort of sticky situation; with his leg still stiff and numb, he was in no condition to duel a dozen people at once, even with support from the others. Umbridge smiled widely as she saw his indecision.
“Unless you agree not to come to the werewolf’s trial, Mr Potter, you might find yourself physically incapable of attending.” Umbridge’s eyes were gleaming alarmingly as she seemed to relish ideas of what exactly she could do to Harry right now. “You have a choice,” she reminded him. “But if you don’t lower your wand very quickly, I’ll have no option but to curse you…can’t have you endangering myself and my colleagues….”
Harry still hesitated; he would have given anything to be able to hex Umbridge into a small, nasty puddle of slime, but considering the circumstances, it probably wouldn’t be the wisest thing to do. Before he could make up his mind, however, several things happened in very quick succession.
To his right, George made a sudden movement that caused Umbridge and several wizards to swing their wands in his direction; Fred, meanwhile, let off a series of firecrackers from the tip of his wand. The room filled with screams, electric-blue smoke that hissed and crackled, and sizzling flashes of white light. Harry, ducking down and coughing, saw each of the twins pull a small, bright purple ball from the pocket of their jeans and hurl it with all their strength at the wall.
It was pandemonium. The second the tiny balls came into contact with the solid brick, they seemed to explode. From each ball shot many more balls, and these in turn rocketed around the small room, multiplying with every bounce. Spell-casting was forgotten as people cowered and ducked, shielding their faces with their arms. Dozens of the rubbery, violently-coloured objects pelted down hard on Harry’s head, and he stumbled in the direction of the door. The blue smoke had almost entirely filled the room by this time, and Harry heard George’s gleeful yells as he let forth another burst of firecrackers from his wand-tip “ just for the hell of it, as it was now entirely unnecessary to defend themselves against the Ministry officials. The last thing Harry saw before he finally made it to the doorway was Umbridge crawling inelegantly underneath her own desk in a desperate attempt to avoid the whizzing, pinging, multi-coloured storm.
Harry, helped by Hermione, stumbled outside and pulled the door shut to stop the balls escaping into the corridor. Then he leant against the wall shaking with laughter.
“That,” he said to the triumphant Fred and George, “has got to be one the best things you’ve ever made.”
“Utterly “ brilliant,” snorted Ron breathlessly, doubling up with laughter. “Did you see Umbridge “ hiding…under her desk….” At that point, he seemed to become incapable of speaking at all and simply howled silently, hanging onto Hermione’s arm for support.
“Chaotoballs,” grinned Fred. “One hundred percent guaranteed to cause havoc in your standard, run-of-the-mill lesson.”
“They needed testing,” George informed Harry, high-fiving Fred.
“Well, they definitely work,” said Harry, attempting to smother his laughter as they set off back down the corridor. “Oh, I’d have loved to set one of those off in one of Snape’s classes.”
Hermione looked scandalised. “Harry, they’re all very well for something like this, but really, in a lesson….”
“Do they stop multiplying after a while?” Ginny asked George. “Only….” She glanced back along the corridor; they could still hear people stumbling about and yelling from inside Umbridge’s office.
“Give them about thirty seconds more and they’ll all fade away,” George told her. “We’d have liked to keep them going indefinitely “”
““ but you’d end up swimming in them, or getting crushed to death,” said Fred. “Not ideal for the classroom model…though it could be an innovative way of fighting Death Eaters,” he added thoughtfully.
They squashed themselves once more into the lift. Harry slowly sobered up, a knot twisting inside his chest as he recognised that they hadn’t resolved anything, and that Lupin’s fate hung on this coming trial.
“What’s next?” asked Ginny. “The necklace?”
“Yeah, where d’you reckon we should look for it?” asked Harry, staring at the panel of buttons in the lift doubtfully. “Who even has it?”
“The new Department?” Ginny suggested. “The Department of Horcruxes? Oh “”
The lift had begun to move downwards by itself; evidently someone was about to use it.
“Damn, where’s my Invisibility Cloak?” said Harry hastily, rummaging in the pockets of his robes.
“Back at St Mungo’s,” said Hermione. “But there’s no need to hide all the time, Harry….”
“Too late, anyway,” said Harry resignedly, readying himself as the lift doors slid open. To his consternation, at least a dozen people “ all of them very elderly witches “ were waiting to get in; at the sight of Harry, there was a collective gasp of surprise and admiration.
“OOH! Look, Nora, look “ it’s him! It’s really him! Harry Potter!” A white-haired, button-nosed witch jiggled up and down in amazed delight.
“Yes, my dear, I had deduced that already,” said the silver-robed, bespectacled Nora dryly, though she couldn’t keep a note of childish excitement out of her voice.
“I’ve wanted to see this young man for years and years! I’ll never forget this day!” And the white-haired witch beamed shyly at Harry, her round cheeks rosy-red.
The other witches all began to speak at once.
“Oh, I’m all of a flutter!”
“What are you doing in the Ministry, Harry, dear?”
“The Prophet reported that you were ill, in St Mungo’s, were they wrong?”
“No, dearie, look, he has bandages on his leg!”
“Oh, the poor darling…does it hurt awfully?”
“Isn’t he handsome? Such a fine, strong boy….”
“Harry “ may I call you Harry? “ would you autograph my handkerchief? I’m afraid I don’t have any paper on me….” The white-haired witch held out a square of white, lacy material in one trembling hand.
Harry, who had been rather lost for words as this formidable fan club gazed at him in awe, sighed and pushed his way out of the lift. The witches fell silent as he stepped into their midst.
“Er,” said Harry, knowing exactly what he wanted to ask, but wondering whether or not it was wise. Finally, he threw caution to the winds; now that his business was all over the papers, Harry supposed regretfully that it wouldn’t matter if he revealed a little more. And he needed to know. He spoke very clearly, though quietly as he addressed the huddle of witches. “Can any of you tell us where to find the Department of Horcruxes?”
This caused a great deal of excitement. The white-haired witch elbowed Nora happily, whispering, “See? He’s being a hero right now!”
Harry sucked the inside of his cheek irritably, but let the statement pass.
“It’s on this floor,” said a short, much wrinkled woman helpfully. “Follow that corridor there, you can’t miss it.”
“Thanks,” said Harry gratefully, turning to go. The others squeezed out of the lift and joined him. “Er “ bye,” Harry added awkwardly to the witches, who all protested.
“But we’ve only just met!”
“Wouldn’t you like to have a nice cup of tea with us?”
“Won’t you sign my handkerchief?” wailed the white-haired witch, as Harry set off impatiently down the corridor, his mind now set on one thing: getting that opal necklace back, and getting it soon.
“Sorry!” called Harry over his shoulder and the others caught up with him. “Lots to do “ thanks for your help!” He didn’t have time to waste scribbling on the handkerchiefs of dotty old ladies. It was already late; through the windows, the sky was a dark blue-grey, faintly sprinkled with stars. Full night was nearly upon them, and Harry, being totally unfamiliar with Ministry shifts, had no idea whether all the employees at the Department of Horcruxes would have gone home.
“What did you say we were doing again?” Fred queried as they strode along the corridor, which was an unusually long, twisting one.
“Oh, yeah….” Harry realised he had never told the twins why they were here. “Well, we’re going to try to get back one of the Horcruxes from the Department,” he told them. “Er “ the necklace that was in the Daily Prophet,” he added awkwardly; it was the thing that had killed Percy, and was probably a sensitive subject.
But Fred only replied cheerfully, “Aha, the infamous Horcrux hunt…Now we, too, can be heroes right now, can’t we, Harry “ may I call you Harry, Mr. Potter?”
George gasped. “You mean this is Harry Potter?” he said in awestruck tones. “Oh my goodness “ I never realised “ I’m all of a flutter!”
“Oh, shut up,” said Harry as both Ron and Ginny snorted.
The corridors were empty, their footsteps echoing on the smooth white tiles. Harry walked as fast as he could on his bandaged leg (which was beginning to hurt again after the strain he had been putting it through), wondering when the Department was going to come into sight. They turned a corner. Then “
“AGGHHH!” Harry let out a yell of shock as his body collided with something very solid, very human, and perfectly invisible, that gave an oof of pain as Harry hit it.
“Shut up, boy, shut up! And point that wand away from me, idiot! What the hell are you lot doing here?” The growling voice was familiar.
“W-w-what?” Harry stammered, staring wildly at the space in front of him. “Professor Moody?”
But another bodiless voice answered him urgently, from the air in front of a large, ornate door inscribed with the words, ‘D. of Horcruxes’. Harry recognised it instantly as Mr Weasley’s.
“Harry, all of you, I don’t know what you’re doing, but get out of here! We’re on Order business “ go!”