Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (77 page)

BY ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-eight.

Signed: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic

The notices had gone up all around the school overnight, but they did not explain how every single person within the castle seemed to know that Dumbledore had overcome two Aurors, the High Inquisitor, the Minister for Magic and his Junior Assistant to escape. No matter where Harry went within the castle, the sole topic of conversation was Dumbledore’s flight, and though some of the details may have gone awry in the retelling (Harry overheard one second-year girl assuring another that Fudge was now lying in St Mungo’s with a pumpkin for a head) it was surprising how accurate the rest of their information was. Everybody knew, for instance, that Harry and Marietta were the only students to have witnessed the scene in Dumbledore’s office and, as Marietta was now in the hospital wing, Harry found himself besieged with requests to give a firsthand account.

‘Dumbledore will be back before long,’ said Ernie Macmillan confidently on the way back from Herbology, after listening intently to Harry’s story. ‘They couldn’t keep him away in our second year and they won’t be able to this time. The Fat Friar told me –’ he dropped his voice conspiratorially, so that Harry, Ron and Hermione had to lean closer to him to hear ‘– that Umbridge tried to get back into his office last night after they’d searched the castle and grounds for him. Couldn’t get past the gargoyle. The Head’s office has sealed itself against her.’ Ernie smirked. ‘Apparently, she had a right little tantrum.’

‘Oh, I expect she really fancied herself sitting up there in the Head’s office,’ said Hermione viciously, as they walked up the stone steps into the Entrance Hall. ‘Lording it over all the other teachers, the stupid puffed-up, power-crazy old –’

‘Now, do you
really
want to finish that sentence, Granger?’

Draco Malfoy had slid out from behind the door, followed by Crabbe and Goyle. His pale, pointed face was alight with malice.

‘Afraid I’m going to have to dock a few points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff,’ he drawled.

‘You can’t take points from fellow prefects, Malfoy,’ said Ernie at once.

‘I know
prefects
can’t dock points from each other,’ sneered Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered. ‘But members of the Inquisitorial Squad –’

‘The
what
?’ said Hermione sharply.

‘The Inquisitorial Squad, Granger,’ said Malfoy, pointing towards a tiny silver ‘I’ on his robes just beneath his prefect’s badge. ‘A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, hand-picked by Professor Umbridge. Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad
do
have the power to dock points … so, Granger, I’ll have five from you for being rude about our new Headmistress. Macmillan, five for contradicting me. Five because I don’t like you, Potter. Weasley, your shirt’s untucked, so I’ll have another five for that. Oh yeah, I forgot, you’re a Mudblood, Granger, so ten off for that.’

Ron pulled out his wand, but Hermione pushed it away, whispering, ‘Don’t!’

‘Wise move, Granger,’ breathed Malfoy. ‘New Head, new times … be good now, Potty … Weasel King …’

Laughing heartily, he strode away with Crabbe and Goyle.

‘He was bluffing,’ said Ernie, looking appalled. ‘He can’t be allowed to dock points … that would be ridiculous … it would completely undermine the prefect system.’

But Harry, Ron and Hermione had turned automatically towards the giant hour-glasses set in niches along the wall behind them, which recorded the house-points. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had been neck and neck in the lead that morning. Even as they watched, stones flew upwards, reducing the amounts in the lower bulbs. In fact, the only glass that seemed unchanged was the emerald-filled one of Slytherin.

‘Noticed, have you?’ said Fred’s voice.

He and George had just come down the marble staircase and joined Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ernie in front of the hourglasses.

‘Malfoy just docked us all about fifty points,’ said Harry furiously, as they watched several more stones fly upwards from the Gryffindor hour-glass.

‘Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break,’ said George.

‘What do you mean, “tried”?’ said Ron quickly.

‘He never managed to get all the words out,’ said Fred, ‘due to the fact that we forced him head-first into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor.’

Hermione looked very shocked.

‘But you’ll get into terrible trouble!’

‘Not until Montague reappears, and that could take weeks, I dunno where we sent him,’ said Fred coolly. ‘Anyway … we’ve decided we don’t care about getting into trouble any more.’

‘Have you ever?’ asked Hermione.

‘Course we have,’ said George. ‘Never been expelled, have we?’

‘We’ve always known where to draw the line,’ said Fred.

‘We might have put a toe across it occasionally,’ said George.

‘But we’ve always stopped short of causing real mayhem,’ said Fred.

‘But now?’ said Ron tentatively.

‘Well, now –’ said George.

‘– what with Dumbledore gone –’ said Fred.

‘– we reckon a bit of mayhem –’ said George.

‘– is exactly what our dear new Head deserves,’ said Fred.

‘You mustn’t!’ whispered Hermione. ‘You really mustn’t! She’d love a reason to expel you!’

‘You don’t get it, Hermione, do you?’ said Fred, smiling at her. ‘We don’t care about staying any more. We’d walk out right now if we weren’t determined to do our bit for Dumbledore first. So, anyway,’ he checked his watch, ‘phase one is about to begin. I’d get in the Great Hall for lunch, if I were you, that way the teachers will see you can’t have had anything to do with it.’

‘Anything to do with what?’ said Hermione anxiously.

‘You’ll see,’ said George. ‘Run along, now.’

Fred and George turned away and disappeared into the swelling crowd descending the stairs towards lunch. Looking highly disconcerted, Ernie muttered something about unfinished Transfiguration homework and scurried away.

‘I think we
should
get out of here, you know,’ said Hermione nervously. ‘Just in case …’

‘Yeah, all right,’ said Ron, and the three of them moved towards the doors to the Great Hall, but Harry had barely glimpsed the day’s ceiling of scudding white clouds when somebody tapped him on the shoulder and, turning, he found himself almost nose-to-nose with Filch the caretaker. He took several hasty steps backwards; Filch was best viewed at a distance.

‘The Headmistress would like to see you, Potter,’ he leered.

‘I didn’t do it,’ said Harry stupidly, thinking of whatever Fred and George were planning. Filch’s jowls wobbled with silent laughter.

‘Guilty conscience, eh?’ he wheezed. ‘Follow me.’

Harry glanced back at Ron and Hermione, who were both looking worried. He shrugged, and followed Filch back into the Entrance Hall, against the tide of hungry students.

Filch seemed to be in an extremely good mood; he hummed creakily under his breath as they climbed the marble staircase. As they reached the first landing he said, ‘Things are changing around here, Potter.’

‘I’ve noticed,’ said Harry coldly.

‘Yerse … I’ve been telling Dumbledore for years and years he’s too soft with you all,’ said Filch, chuckling nastily. ‘You filthy little beasts would never have dropped Stink Pellets if you’d known I had it in my power to whip you raw, would you, now? Nobody would have thought of throwing Fanged Frisbees down the corridors if I could’ve strung you up by the ankles in my office, would they? But when Educational Decree Number Twenty-nine comes in, Potter, I’ll be allowed to do them things …
and
she’s asked the Minister to sign an order for the expulsion of Peeves … oh, things are going to be very different around here with
her
in charge …’

Umbridge had obviously gone to some lengths to get Filch on her side, Harry thought, and the worst of it was that he would probably prove an important weapon; his knowledge of the school’s secret passageways and hiding places was probably second only to that of the Weasley twins.

‘Here we are,’ he said, leering down at Harry as he rapped three times on Professor Umbridge’s door and pushed it open. ‘The Potter boy to see you, Ma’am.’

Umbridge’s office, so very familiar to Harry from his many detentions, was the same as usual except for the large wooden block lying across the front of her desk on which golden letters spelled the word: HEADMISTRESS. Also, his Firebolt and Fred and George’s Cleansweeps, which he saw with a pang, were chained and padlocked to a stout iron peg in the wall behind the desk.

Umbridge was sitting behind the desk, busily scribbling on some of her pink parchment, but she looked up and smiled widely at their entrance.

‘Thank you, Argus,’ she said sweetly.

‘Not at all, Ma’am, not at all,’ said Filch, bowing as low as his rheumatism would permit, and exiting backwards.

‘Sit,’ said Umbridge curtly, pointing towards a chair. Harry sat. She continued to scribble for a few moments. He watched some of the foul kittens gambolling around the plates over her head, wondering what fresh horror she had in store for him.

‘Well, now,’ she said finally, setting down her quill and looking like a toad about to swallow a particularly juicy fly. ‘What would you like to drink?’

‘What?’ said Harry, quite sure he had misheard her.

‘To drink, Mr Potter,’ she said, smiling still more widely. ‘Tea? Coffee? Pumpkin juice?’

As she named each drink, she gave her short wand a wave, and a cup or glass of it appeared on her desk.

‘Nothing, thank you,’ said Harry.

‘I wish you to have a drink with me,’ she said, her voice becoming dangerously sweet. ‘Choose one.’

‘Fine … tea then,’ said Harry, shrugging.

She got up and made quite a performance of adding milk with her back to him. She then bustled around the desk with it, smiling in a sinisterly sweet fashion.

‘There,’ she said, handing it to him. ‘Drink it before it gets cold, won’t you? Well, now, Mr Potter … I thought we ought to have a little chat, after the distressing events of last night.’

He said nothing. She settled herself back into her seat and waited. When several long moments had passed in silence, she said gaily, ‘You’re not drinking up!’

He raised the cup to his lips and then, just as suddenly, lowered it. One of the horrible painted kittens behind Umbridge had great round blue eyes just like Mad-Eye Moody’s magical one and it had just occurred to Harry what Mad-Eye would say if he ever heard that Harry had drunk anything offered by a known enemy.

‘What’s the matter?’ said Umbridge, who was still watching him. ‘Do you want sugar?’

‘No,’ said Harry.

He raised the cup to his lips again and pretended to take a sip, though keeping his mouth tightly closed. Umbridge’s smile widened.

‘Good,’ she whispered. ‘Very good. Now then …’ She leaned forwards a little.
‘Where is Albus Dumbledore?’

‘No idea,’ said Harry promptly.

‘Drink up, drink up,’ she said, still smiling. ‘Now, Mr Potter, let us not play childish games. I know that you know where he has gone. You and Dumbledore have been in this together from the beginning. Consider your position, Mr Potter …’

‘I don’t know where he is.’

Harry pretended to drink again.

‘Very well,’ said Umbridge, looking displeased. ‘In that case, you will kindly tell me the whereabouts of Sirius Black.’

Harry’s stomach turned over and his hand holding the teacup shook so that it rattled in its saucer. He tilted the cup to his mouth with his lips pressed together, so that some of the hot liquid trickled down on to his robes.

‘I don’t know,’ he said, a little too quickly.

‘Mr Potter,’ said Umbridge, ‘let me remind you that it was I who almost caught the criminal Black in the Gryffindor fire in October. I know perfectly well it was you he was meeting and if I had had any proof neither of you would be at large today, I promise you. I repeat, Mr Potter … where is Sirius Black?’

‘No idea,’ said Harry loudly. ‘Haven’t got a clue.’

They stared at each other so long that Harry felt his eyes watering. Then Umbridge stood up.

‘Very well, Potter, I will take your word for it this time, but be warned: the might of the Ministry stands behind me. All channels of communication in and out of this school are being monitored. A Floo Network Regulator is keeping watch over every fire in Hogwarts
–
except my own, of course. My Inquisitorial Squad is opening and reading all owl post entering and leaving the castle. And Mr Filch is observing all secret passages in and out of the castle. If I find a shred of evidence …’

BOOM!

The very floor of the office shook. Umbridge slipped sideways, clutching her desk for support, and looking shocked.

‘What was –?’

She was gazing towards the door. Harry took the opportunity to empty his almost-full cup of tea into the nearest vase of dried flowers. He could hear people running and screaming several floors below.

‘Back to lunch you go, Potter!’ cried Umbridge, raising her wand and dashing out of the office. Harry gave her a few seconds’ start, then hurried after her to see what the source of all the uproar was.

It was not difficult to find. One floor down, pandemonium reigned. Somebody (and Harry had a very shrewd idea who) had set off what seemed to be an enormous crate of enchanted fireworks.

Dragons comprised entirely of green and gold sparks were soaring up and down the corridors, emitting loud fiery blasts and bangs as they went; shocking-pink Catherine wheels five feet in diameter were whizzing lethally through the air like so many flying saucers; rockets with long tails of brilliant silver stars were ricocheting off the walls; sparklers were writing swear words in midair of their own accord; firecrackers were exploding like mines everywhere Harry looked, and instead of burning themselves out, fading from sight or fizzling to a halt, these pyrotechnical miracles seemed to be gaining in energy and momentum the longer he watched.