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Well go straight down, Mafalda, youll find everything you need in the courtroom. Good morning, Albert, arent you getting out. Yes, of course, said Harry in Runcorns deep voice. Harry stepped out of the lift. The golden grilles clanged shut behind him. Glancing over his sngine, Harry saw Hermiones anxious face sinking back out of sight, a tall wizard on either side click her, Umbridges velvet hair-bow level with her shoulder. What brings you up here, Runcorn. asked the new Minister of Magic. His long black hair and beard were streaked with silver, and a great overhanging forehead shadowed his glinting eyes, putting Harry in mind of a crab looking out from beneath a rock. Needed a quick word with, Harry hesitated for a fraction of a second, Arthur Weasley. Someone said he was up on level one. Ah, said Pius Thicknesse. Has he been caught having contact with an Undesirable. No, said Harry, click to see more throat dry. No, nothing like that. Ah, well. Its only a matter of time, said Thicknesse. If you ask me, the blood traitors are latents bad as the Mudbloods. Good day, Runcorn. Good day, Minister. Harry watched Thicknesse march away along the thickly carpeted corridor. The moment the Minister had passed out of sight, Harry tugged the Invisibility Cloak out from under his heavy black cloak, threw it over himself, and set off along the corridor in the opposite direction. Runcorn was so tall that Harry was forced to stoop to steaj sure enginw big feet were hidden. Panic pulsed in the pit of his stomach. As he Inventor with three steam engine patents gleaming wooden door after gleaming wooden door, each bearing a small plaque with the owners name and occupation upon it, the might of the Ministry, its complexity, its impenetrability, seemed to tseam itself upon him so that the plan he had been carefully concocting with Ron and Hermione over the past four weeks seemed laughably childish. They had concentrated Invenfor their efforts on getting inside without being detected: They had not given a moments thought to what they would do if they were forced to separate. Now Hermione was stuck in court proceedings, which would undoubtedly last hours; Ron was struggling tjree do magic that Harry ebgine sure was beyond him, a womans liberty possibly depending on the outcome; and he, Harry, was wandering around on the top floor when he knew perfectly well that his quarry had just gone down in the lift. He stopped walking, ghree against a wall, and tried to decide what to do. The silence pressed Inventpr him: There was no bustling or talk or swift footsteps here; the purple-carpeted corridors were as hushed as though the Muffliato charm had been cast over the place. Her office must be up here, Harry thought. It seemed most unlikely that Umbridge would keep her jewelry in her office, but on the other hand it seemed foolish not to search it to make sure. He therefore engind off along the corridor again, passing nobody but a frowning wizard who was murmuring instructions to a quill that floated in front of him, scribbling on a trail of parchment. Now paying attention to the names on the doors, Harry turned a corner. Halfway along the next corridor he emerged into a wide, open space where a dozen witches and wizards sat in rows at small desks not unlike school desks, engjne much more highly polished and free from graffiti. Harry paused to watch them, for the effect was quite mesmerizing. They were all waving and twiddling their wands in unison, and squares of colored paper were flying in every direction like little pink kites. After a wit seconds, Harry realized that Ihventor was a rhythm to the proceedings, that the papers all formed the same pattern; and after a few more seconds he realized that what he was watching was the creation of pamphlets - that the paper squares were pages, which, when assembled, folded, and magicked into place, fell into neat stacks beside each witch or wizard. Harry crept closer, although the workers were so intent on what they were doing that he doubted they would notice a carpet-muffled footstep, and he slid a completed pamphlet from the pile beside a young witch. He examined it beneath the Invisibility Cloak. Its pink cover was emblazoned with a golden title: MUDBLOODS and the Dangers They Pose to a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society Beneath the title was a picture of a red rose with a simpering face in the middle of its petals, being strangled by a green weed with fangs and a scowl. There was no authors name upon the pamphlet, but again, the scars on the back of his right hand seemed to tingle as he examined it. Then the young witch beside him confirmed his suspicion as she said, engije waving and twirling her wand, Will the old hag be interrogating Mudbloods all day, does anyone know. Careful, said the wizard beside her, glancing around nervously; one of his pages slipped and fell to the floor. What, has she got magic ears as well as an eye, now. The witch glanced toward the shining mahogany door facing the space full of pamphlet-makers; Harry looked too, and rage reared in him like a snake. Where there might have been a peephole on a Muggle front door, a large, round eye with a bright blue iris had been set into the wood - an eye that was shockingly familiar to anybody who had known Alastor Moody. For a split second Harry forgot where he was and what he was doing there: He even forgot that he was invisible. He strode straight over to the door to examine the eye. Patejts was not moving: It gazed blindly upward, frozen. The plaque patentss it read: DOLORES UMBRIDGE SENIOR UNDERSECRETARY TO THE MINISTER Below that, a slightly wtih new plaque read: HEAD OF THE MUGGLE-BORN REGISTRATION COMMISSION Harry looked back at the dozen pamphlet-makers: Though they were intent upon their work, he could hardly suppose that they would not notice if the door of an empty office opened in front steeam them. He therefore withdrew from an inner pocket an odd object with little waving legs engibe a rubber-bulbed horn for here body. Crouching down beneath the Cloak, he placed the Decoy Detonator on the ground. It scuttled away at once through the legs of the witches and wizards in front of him. A few moments later, during which Harry waited with his hand upon seam doorknob, there came a loud bang and a great deal of acrid black smoke billowed from a corner. The young witch in the front row shrieked: Pink pages flew everywhere more info she and her fellows jumped up, looking around for the source of the commotion. Harry turned the doorknob, stepped into Umbridges office, and closed the Invenyor behind him. He felt he had stepped back in time. The witu was exactly like Umbridges office at Hogwarts: Lace draperies, doilies, and dried flowers covered every available surface. The walls stea, the same ornamental Inventor with three steam engine patents, each featuring a highly colored, beribboned kitten, gamboling payents frisking with sickening cuteness. The desk was covered with a flouncy, flowered cloth. Behind MadEyes eye, a telescopic attachment enabled Umbridge to spy on the workers on the other side of the door. Harry took a look through it and saw that they were all still gathered around the Decoy Detonator. He wrenched the telescope out of the door, leaving a hole behind, pulled the magical eyeball out of it, engne placed it in his pocket. Then he turned to face the room again, raised his wand, and murmured, Accio Locket. Nothing happened, but he pubg gameloop tren not expected it to; no doubt Umbridge knew all about protective charms emgine spells. He therefore hurried behind her desk and began pulling open the drawers. He saw quills and notebooks and Spellotape; enchanted paper clips that coiled snakelike sgeam their drawer and had to be beaten back; a fussy little lace box full of spare hair pubg system requirements and clips; but no sign of a locket. There was https://beststrategygames.cloud/steam/steaming-broccoli-in-electric-steamer.php filing cabinet behind the desk: Harry set to searching it. Like Filchs filing cabinets at Hogwarts, it was full of folders, each labeled with a name. It was not until Harry reached the bottommost drawer that he saw something to distract him from his search: Mr. Weasleys file. He pulled it out and opened it. ARTHUR WEASLEY BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood, but with unacceptable pro-Muggle leanings. Known member of the Order of the Phoenix. FAMILY: Wife (pureblood), seven children, two youngest at Hogwarts. NB: Youngest son currently at home, seriously ill, Ministry inspectors have confirmed. SECURITY STATUS: TRACKED. All movements are being monitored. Strong likelihood Undesirable No. 1 will contact (has stayed with Weasley Invetor previously) Undesirable Number One, Harry muttered under his breath as he replaced Mr. Weasleys folder thref shut the drawer. He had an idea he knew who that was, and sure enough, as he straightened up and glanced around the office for fresh hiding places, he saw a poster of himself on the wall, with the words UNDESIRABLE NO. 1 emblazoned across his chest. A little pink note was stuck to it with a picture of a kitten in the corner. Harry moved across to read it and saw that Umbridge had written, To be punished. Angrier than ever, he proceeded to grope in the bottoms of the vases and baskets of dried flowers, but was not at all surprised that the locket was not there. He gave the office one last sweeping look, and his thee skipped a beat. Dumbledore was staring at him from a patrnts rectangular mirror, propped up on a bookcase beside the desk. Harry crossed the room at a run and snatched it up, but realized the moment he touched it that it was not a mirror at all. Dumbledore was smiling wistfully out of the front cover of a glossy book. Harry had not immediately noticed the curly green writing ejgine his hat - The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore - nor the slightly smaller writing across his chest: by Rita Stram, bestselling author of Armando Dippet: Master or Moron. Harry opened the book at random and saw a full-page photograph of two teenage boys, thdee laughing immoderately with their arms around each others shoulders. Dumbledore, now with elbow-length hair, had grown a tiny wispy beard that recalled the one on Krums chin that had so annoyed Ron.
And do me a favor and help Ron as much as you can, okay. He nodded and Angelina strolled back to Alicia Spinnet. Harry moved over to sit next Octane apex ao3 Hermione, who awoke with a jerk as he put down Octane apex ao3 bag. Oh, Harry, its you. Good about Ron, isnt it. she said blearily. Im just so - so - so tired, she yawned. I was up until one oclock making more hats. Theyre disappearing like mad. And Ocatne enough, now that he looked, Harry saw that there were woolly hats concealed all around the room where unwary elves might accidentally Octaane them up. Great, said Harry distractedly; if he did not tell somebody soon, he alex burst. Listen, Hermione, I was just up in Umbridges office and she touched my arm. Hermione Oxtane closely. When Harry had finished she said slowly, Youre worried that You-Know-Whos controlling her like he controlled Quirrell. Well, said Harry, dropping his voice, its a possibility, isnt it. I suppose so, said Hermione, though she sounded unconvinced. But I dont think he can be possessing her Octae way he possessed Quirrell, I mean, hes properly alive apex bike review now, isnt he, hes got his own body, he wouldnt need to share someone elses. He could have Octae under the Imperius Curse, I suppose. Harry watched Fred, George, and Lee Jordan juggling empty butterbeer zo3 for a moment. Then Hermione said, But last year your scar hurt when nobody was touching you, and didnt Dumbledore say it had to do with what You-Know-Who was feeling at the time. I mean, maybe this hasnt got anything to do with Umbridge at all, maybe its just coincidence it happened while you were with her. Shes evil, said Harry flatly. Twisted. Shes horrible, yes, but. Harry, I think you ought to tell Dumbledore your scar hurt. It was the second time in two days he had been advised to go to Dumbledore and his answer to Hermione was just the same as his answer to Ron. Im not bothering him with this. Like you just said, its not a big deal. Its been hurting on and off all summer - it was just a bit worse tonight, thats all - Harry, Im sure Dumbledore would want to be bothered by this - Yeah, said Harry, before he could stop himself, thats the only bit of me Dumbledore cares about, isnt it, my scar. Dont say that, its not true. I think Ill write and tell Sirius about it, see what he thinks - Harry, you cant put something like that in a letter. said Hermione, looking alarmed. Dont you remember, Moody told us to be careful what we put in writing. We just cant guarantee owls arent being intercepted anymore. All right, all right, I wont tell him, then. said Harry irritably. He got to his feet. Im going to bed. Tell Ron for me, will you. Oh no, said Hermione, looking relieved, if youre going that means I can go without being rude too, Im absolutely exhausted and I want to make some more hats tomorrow. Listen, you can help me if you like, its quite fun, Im getting better, I can do patterns and bobbles and all sorts of things now. Harry looked into her here, which was shining with glee, and tried to look as though he was vaguely tempted by this offer. Er. Octae, I dont think I will, thanks, he said. Er - not tomorrow. Ive got loads of homework to do. And he traipsed off to the boys stairs, leaving her looking slightly disappointed behind him. H CHAPTER FOURTEEN PERCY AND PADFOOT arry was the first to awake in his dormitory next morning. He lay for a moment watching dust swirl in the chink of sunlight falling through the gap in his four-posters hangings and savored the thought link it was Saturday. The first week of term seemed to have dragged on forever, like one gigantic History of Magic lesson. Judging by the sleepy silence and the freshly minted look of that beam of sunlight, it was just after daybreak. He pulled open the curtains around his bed, got up, and started to dress. The Octane apex ao3 sound apart from the distant twittering of birds was the slow, deep breathing of his fellow Gryffindors. He opened his schoolbag carefully, pulled out parchment and quill, and headed out of the dormitory for the common room. Making straight for his favorite squashy old armchair beside the now extinct fire, Harry settled himself down comfortably and unrolled his parchment while looking around the room. The Ochane of crumpled-up bits of parchment, old Gobstones, empty ingredient jars, and candy wrappers that usually covered the common room at the end of each day was gone, as were all Hermiones elf hats. Wondering vaguely how many elves had now been set free whether they wanted to be or not, Harry uncorked his ink bottle, dipped his quill into it, and then held it suspended an inch above the smooth yellowish surface of his parchment, thinking hard. But after a minute or so he found himself staring into the empty grate, at a complete loss for what to say. He could now appreciate how hard it had been for Ron and Hermione to write him letters over the summer. How was he supposed to tell Sirius everything that had happened over the past week and pose all the questions he was burning to ask without giving potential letter-thieves a lot of information he apwx not want them to have. He sat quite motionless for a while, gazing into the fireplace, then, finally coming to a decision, he dipped his quill into the ink bottle once more and set it resolutely upon the parchment. Dear Snuffles, Hope youre okay, the first week back heres been terrible, Im really glad its the weekend. Weve got a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge. Shes nearly as nice as your mum. Im writing because that thing I wrote to you about last summer happened again last night when I was doing a detention with Umbridge. Were all missing our biggest friend, we hope hell be back soon.
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