'And this is Kingsley Shacklebolt.' He indicated the tall black wizard, who bowed. 'Elphias Doge.' The wheezy-voiced wizard nodded. 'Dedalus Diggle -'
'We've met before,' squeaked the excitable Diggle, dropping his violet-coloured top hat.
'Emmeline Vance.' A stately-looking witch in an emerald green shawl inclined her head. 'Sturgis Podmore.' A square-jawed wizard with thick straw-coloured hair winked. 'And Hestia Jones.' A pink-cheeked, black-haired witch waved from next to the toaster.
Harry inclined his head awkwardly at each of them as they were introduced. He wished they would look at something other than him; it was as though he had suddenly been ushered on-stage. He also wondered why so many of them were there.
'A surprising number of people volunteered to come and get you,' said Lupin, as though he had read Harry's mind; the corners of his mouth twitched slightly.
'Yeah, well, the more the better,' said Moody darkly. 'We're your guard, Potter.'
'Brooms,' said Lupin. 'Only way. You're too young to Apparate, they'll be
watching the Floo Network and it's more than our life's worth to set up
an unauthorised Portkey.'
'Remus says you're a good flier,' said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep voice.
'He's excellent,' said Lupin, who was checking his watch. 'Anyway, you'd better go and get packed, Harry, we want to be ready to go when the signal comes.'
'You're an Auror?' said Harry, impressed. Being a Dark-wizard-catcher was
the only career he'd ever considered after Hogwarts.
'Yeah,' said Tonks, looking proud. 'Kingsley is as well, he's a bit higher up than me, though. I only qualified a year ago. Nearly failed on Stealth and Tracking. I'm dead clumsy, did you hear me break that plate when we arrived downstairs?'
Back in the kitchen Moody had replaced his eye, which was spinning so fast
after its cleaning it made Harry feel sick to look at it. Kingsley Shacklebolt
and Sturgis Podmore were examining the microwave and Hestia Jones was laughing
at a potato peeler she had come across while rummaging in the drawers. Lupin
was sealing a letter addressed to the Dursleys.
'I'm just telling the boy the plan,' growled Moody. 'Our jobs to deliver
him safely to Headquarters and if we die in the attempt -
'No one's going to die,' said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep, calming voice.
Harry was now so chilled he thought longingly of the snug, dry interiors
of the cars streaming along below, then, even more longingly, of travelling
by Floo powder; it might be uncomfortable to spin around in fireplaces but
it was at least warm in the flames… Kingsley Shacklebolt swooped around
him, bald pate and earring gleaming slightly in the moonlight… now
Emmeline Vance was on his right, her wand out, her head turning left and
right… then she, too, swooped over him, to be replaced by Sturgis Podmore…
'We've managed to convince a couple of people, though,' said Mr Weasley.
Tonks here, for one - she's too young to have been in the Order of the Phoenix
last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage - Kingsley
Shacklebolt's been a real asset, too; he's in charge of the hunt for Sirius,
so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet.'
Harry took as much time as he dared to close the drawing-room door; he wanted
to listen to what was going on downstairs. Sirius had obviously managed
to shut the curtains over his mother's portrait because she had stopped
screaming. He heard Sirius walking down the hall, then the clattering of
the chain on the front door, and then a deep voice he recognised as Kingsley
Shacklebolt's saying, 'Hestia's just relieved me, so she's got Moody's Cloak
now, thought I'd leave a report for Dumbledore…'
Feeling Mrs Weasley's eyes on the back of his head, Harry regretfully closed the drawing-room door and rejoined the Doxy party.
He and George crossed to the door and stood beside it, listening closely.
Mrs Black's screaming had stopped.
'Mundungus is talking to Sirius and Kingsley,' Fred muttered, frowning with concentration. 'Can't hear properly… d'you reckon we can risk the Extendable Ears?'
Lupin glanced at Harry, then said to Tonks, "What were you saying about
Scrimgeour?"
"Oh ... yeah ... well, we need to be a bit more careful, he's been asking Kingsley and me funny questions ..."
Harry looked surreptitiously through the doorways as they passed. The Aurors
had covered their cubicle walls with everything from pictures of wanted
wizards and photographs of their families, to posters of their favourite
Quidditch teams and articles from the Daily Prophet. A scarlet-robed man
with a ponytail longer than Bill's was sitting with his boots up on his
desk, dictating a report to his quill. A little further along, a witch with
a patch over one eye was talking over the top of her cubicle wall to Kingsley
Shacklebolt.
"Morning, Weasley," said Kingsley carelessly, as they drew nearer. "I've been wanting a word with you, have you got a second?"
"Yes, if it really is a second," said Mr Weasley, "I'm in rather a hurry."
They were talking as though they hardly knew each other and when Harry opened his mouth to say hello to Kingsley, Mr Weasley stood on his foot. They followed Kingsley along the row and into the very last cubicle.
Harry received a slight shock; blinking down at him from every direction was Sirius's face. Newspaper cuttings and old photographs - even the one of Sirius being best man at the Potters' wedding -papered the walls. The only Sirius-free space was a map of the world in which little red pins were glowing like jewels.
"Here," said Kingsley brusquely to Mr Weasley, shoving a sheaf of parchment into his hand. "I need as much information as possible on flying Muggle vehicles sighted in the last twelve months. We've received information that Black might still be using his old motorcycle."
Kingsley tipped Harry an enormous wink and added, in a whisper, "Give him the magazine, he might find it interesting." Then he said in normal tones, "And don't take too long, Weasley, the delay on that firelegs report held our investigation up for a month."
"If you had read my report you would know that the term is firearms," said Mr Weasley coolly. "And I'm afraid you'll have to wait for information on motorcycles; we're extremely busy at the moment." He dropped his voice and said, "If you can get away before seven, Molly's making meatballs."
He beckoned to Harry and led him out of Kingsley's cubicle, through a second set of oak doors, into another passage, turned left, marched along another corridor, turned right into a dimly lit and distinctly shabby corridor, and finally reached a dead end, where a door on the left stood ajar, revealing a broom cupboard, and a door on the right bore a tarnished brass plaque reading: Misuse of Muggle Artefacts.
Harry squeezed himself into the chair behind Perkins's desk while Mr Weasley
riffled through the sheaf of parchment Kingsley Shacklebolt had given him.
"Ah," he said, grinning, as he extracted a copy of a magazine entitled The Quibbler from its midst, "yes ..." He flicked through it. "Yes, he's right, I'm sure Sirus will find that very amusing - oh dear, what's this now?"
'That's enough! Settle down!' shouted Mr Weasley, though he too was smiling.
'Listen, Sirius, Lucius Malfoy was at the Ministry -'
'What?' said Sirius sharply.
'He got off, he got off, he got off…"
'Be quiet, you three! Yes, we saw him talking to Fudge on Level Nine, then they went up to Fudge's office together. Dumbledore ought to know.'
'Absolutely,' said Sirius. 'We'll tell him, don't worry.'
'Well, I'd better get going, there's a vomiting toilet waiting for me in Bethnal Green. Molly, I'll be late, I'm covering for Tonks, but Kingsley might be dropping in for dinner -'
'I thought we'd have a little party, not a sit-down dinner,' she told Harry,
Ron, Hermione, Fred, George and Ginny as they entered the room. 'Your father
and Bill are on their way, Ron. I've sent them both owls and they're thrilled,'
she added, beaming.
Fred rolled his eyes.
Sirius, Lupin, Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt were already there and Mad-Eye Moody stumped in shortly after Harry had got himself a Butterbeer.
Standing where the twins had left him, with nothing but a guilty weight
in the pit ol his stomaeh tor eompany, Harry caught the sound ol his own
name. Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep voice was audible even over the surrounding
chatter.
'… why Dumbledore didn't make Potter a prefect?' said Kingsley.
'He'll have had his reasons,' replied Lupin.
'But it would've shown confidence in him. It's what I'd've done,' persisted Kingsley, 'specially with the Daily Prophet having a go at him every few days…"
Harry did not look round; he did not want Lupin or Kingsley to know he had heard. Though not remotely hungry, he followed Mundungus back towards the table. His pleasure in the party had evaporated as quickly as it had come; he wished he were upstairs in bed.
Harry opened the magazine and scanned the index. Until this moment he had
completely forgotten the magazine Kingsley had handed Mr Weasley to give
to Sirius, but it must have been this edition of The Quibbler.
'Fizzing Whizzbee,' sang Umbridge; the stone gargoyle jumped aside, the
wall behind split open, and they ascended the moving stone staircase. They
reached the polished door with the griffin knocker, but Umbridge did not
bother to knock, she strode straight inside, still holding tight to Harry.
The office was full of people. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, his expression serene, the tips of his long fingers together. Professor McGonagall stood rigidly beside him, her face extremely tense. Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, was rocking backwards and forwards on his toes beside the fire, apparently immensely pleased with the situation; Kigsley Shacklebolt and a tough-looking wizard with very short wiry hair whom Harry did not recognise, were positioned either side of the door like guards, and the freckled, bespectacled form of Percy Weasley hovered excitedly beside the wall, a quill and a heavy scroll of parchment in his hands, apparently poised to take notes.
'Well,' said Dumbledore, surveying her with polite interest over the top
of his interlocked fingers, 'they certainly would be, if they had continued
after the Decree came into effect. Do you have any evidence that any such
meetings continued?'
As Dumbledore spoke, Harry heard a rustle behind him and rather thought Kingsley whispered something. He could have sworn, too, that he felt something brush against his side, a gentle something like a draught or bird wings, but looking down he saw nothing there.
Professor Umbridge seized Marietta, pulled her round to face her and began
shaking her very hard. A split second later Dumbledore was on his feet,
his wand raised; Kingsley started forwards and
Umbridge leapt back from Marietta, waving her hands in the air as though they had been burned.
'I cannot allow you to manhandle my students, Dolores,' said Dumbledore and, for the first time, he looked angry.
'You want to calm yourself, Madam Umbridge,' said Kingsley, in his deep, slow voice. 'You don't want to get yourself into trouble, now.'
'No,' said Umbridge breathlessly, glancing up at the towering figure of Kingsley. 'I mean, yes - you're right, Shacklebolt - I - I forgot myself.'
Marietta was standing exactly where Umbridge had released her. She seemed neither perturbed by Umbridge's sudden attack, nor relieved by her release; she was still clutching her robe up to her oddly blank eyes and staring straight ahead of her.
A sudden suspicion, connected to Kingsley's whisper and the thing he had felt shoot past him, sprang into Harry's mind.
Dumbledore reached out and took the piece of parchment from Fudge. He gazed
at the heading scribbled by Hermione months before and for a moment seemed
unable to speak. Then he looked up, smiling.
'Well, the game is up,' he said simply. 'Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelius - or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?'
Harry saw McGonagall and Kingsley look at each other. There was fear in both faces. He did not understand what was going on, and nor, apparently, did Fudge.
'Then you have been plotting against me!' he yelled.
'That's right,' said Dumbledore cheerfully.
'NO!' shouted Harry.
Kingsley flashed a look of warning at him, McGonagall widened her eyes threateningly, but it had suddenly dawned on Harry what Dumbledore was about to do, and he could not let it happen.
'No - Professor Dumbledore -!'
Umbridge's face was growing steadily redder; she looked as though she was
being filled with boiling water. Fudge stared at Dumbledore with a very
silly expression on his face, as though he had just been stunned by a sudden
blow and could not quite believe it had happened. He made a small choking
noise, then looked round at Kingsley and the man with short grey hair, who
alone of everyone in the room had remained entirely silent so far. The latter
gave Fudge a reassuring nod and moved forwards a little, away from the wall.
Harry saw his hand drift, almost casually, towards his pocket.
'So,' sneered Fudge, recovering himself, 'you intend to take on Dawlish,
Shacklebolt, Dolores and myself single-handed, do you, Dumbledore?'
'Merlin's beard, no,' said Dumbledore, smiling, 'not unless you are foolish enough to force me to.'
'He will not be single-handed!' said Professor McGonagall loudly, plunging her hand inside her robes.
'Oh yes he will, Minerva!' said Dumbledore sharply. 'Hogwarts needs you!'
'Enough of this rubbish!' said Fudge, pulling out his own wand. 'Dawlish! Shacklebolt! Take him!'
A streak of silver light flashed around the room; there was a bang like a gunshot and the floor trembled; a hand grabbed the scruff of Harry's neck and forced him down on the floor as a second silver flash went off; several of the portraits yelled, Fawkes screeched and a cloud of dust filled the air. Coughing in the dust, Harry saw a dark figure fall to the ground with a crash in front of him; there was a shriek and a thud and somebody cried, 'No!'; then there was the sound of breaking glass, frantically scuffling footsteps, a groan… and silence.
'Are you all right?' Dumbledore asked.
'Yes!' said Professor McGonagall, getting up and dragging Harry and Marietta with her.
The dust was clearing. The wreckage of the office loomed into view: Dumbledore's desk had been overturned, all of the spindly tables had been knocked to the floor, their silver instruments in pieces. Fudge, Umbridge, Kingsley and Dawlish lay motionless on the floor. Fawkes the phoenix soared in wide circles above them, singing softly.
'Unfortunately, I had to hex Kingsley too, or it would have looked very suspicious,' said Dumbledore in a low voice. 'He was remarkably quick on the uptake, modifying Miss Edgecombe's memory like that while everyone was looking the other way - thank him, for me, won't you, Minerva?
'Now, they will all awake very soon and it will be best if they do not know that we had time to communicate - you must act as though no time has passed, as though they were merely knocked to the ground, they will not remember -'
'Where is he?' yelled Fudge, pushing himself up from the floor. 'Where is
he?'
'I don't know!' shouted Kingsley, also leaping to his feet.
'Well, he can't have Disapparated!' cried Umbridge. 'You can't do it from inside this school -'
'The stairs!' cried Dawlish, and he flung himself upon the door, wrenched it open and disappeared, followed closely by Kingsley and Umbridge. Fudge hesitated, then got slowly to his feet, brushing dust from his front. There was a long and painful silence.
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.
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 -
'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 -
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 hashes of light, grunts and cries
- Kingsley had run forward to continue SSirius's duel with Bellatrix.
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.
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.