Ah, Mafalda!” said Umbridge, looking at Hermione. “Travers sent you, did he?”
“God, you’ll do perfectly3 well.” Umbridge spoke4 to the wizard in black and gold. “That’s that problem solved. Minister, if Mafalda can be spared for record-keeping we shall be able to start straightaway.” She consulted her clipboard. “Ten people today and one of them the wife of a Ministry5 employee! Tut, tut… even here, in the heart of the Ministry!” She stepped into the lift besides Hermione, as did the two wizards who had been listening to Umbridge’s conversation with the Minister. “We’ll go straight down, Mafalda, you’ll find everything you need in the courtroom. Good morning, Albert, aren’t you getting out?”
“Yes, of course,” said Harry6 in Runcorn’s deep voice.
Harry stepped out of the life. The golden grilles clanged shut behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, Harry saw Hermione’s anxious face sinking back out of sight, a tall wizard on either side of her, Umbridge’s velvet7 hair-bow level with her shoulder.
“What brings you here, Runcorn?” asked the new Minister of Magic. His long black hair and beard were streaked8 with silver and a great overhanging forehead shadowed his glinting eyes, putting Harry in the mind of a crab9 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 Plum Thicknesse. “Has he been caught having contact with an Undesirable10?”
“No,” said Harry, his throat dry. “No, nothing like that.”
“Ah, well. It’s only a matter of time,” said Thicknesse. “If you ask me, the blood traitors11 are as 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 tugged12 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 make sure his big feet were hidden.
Panic pulsed in the pit of his stomach. As he passed gleaming wooden door after gleaming wooden door, each bearing a small plaque13 with the owner’s name and occupation upon it, the might of the Ministry, its complexity14, its impenetrability, seemed to force itself upon him so that the plan he had been carefully concocting15 with Ron and Hermione over the past four weeks seemed laughably childish. They had concentrated all their efforts on getting inside without being detected: They had not given a moment’s thought to what they would do if they were forced to separate. Now Hermione was stuck in court proceedings16, which would undoubtedly17 last hours; Ron was struggling to do magic that Harry was sure was beyond him, a woman’s liberty possibly depending on the outcome, and he, Harry, was wandering around on the top floor when he knew perfectly well that his quarry19 had just gone down in the lift.
He stopped walking, leaned against a wall, and tried to decide what to do. The silence pressed upon him: There was no bustling20 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 jewelry21 in her office, but on the other hand it seemed foolish not to search it to make sure. He therefore set off along the corridor again, passing nobody but a frowning wizard who was murmuring instructions to a quill22 that floated in front of him, scribbling23 on a trail of parchment.
Now paying attention to the names on the doors, Harry turned a corner. Halfway24 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, though much more highly polished and free from graffiti. Harry paused to watch them, for the effect was quite mesmerizing25. They were all waving and twiddling their wands in unison26, and squares of colored paper were flying in every direction like little pink kites. After a few seconds, Harry realized that there was a rhythm to the proceedings, that the papers all formed the same pattern and after a few more seconds he realized 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 petals27, being strangled by a green weed with fangs28 and a scowl29. There was no author’s name upon the pamphlet, but again, the scars on the back of his right hand seemed to tingle30 as he examined it. Then the young witch beside him confirmed his suspicion as she said, still waving and twirling her wand, “Will the old hag be interrogating31 Mudbloods all day, does anyone know?”
“Careful,” said the wizard beside her, glancing around nervously32; 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 the 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 iris33 had been set into the wood – an eye that was shockingly familiar to anybody who had known Alastor Moody34.
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.
It was not moving. It gazed blindly upward, frozen. The plaque beneath it read:
Dolores Umbridge
Senior Undersecretary to the Minister
Below that a slightly shinier new plaque read:
Head of the Muggle-Born Registration35 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 of them. He therefore withdrew from an inner pocket an odd object with little waving legs and a rubber-bulbed horn for a body. Crouching36 down beneath the Cloak, he placed the Decoy Detonator on the ground.
It scuttled37 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 the doorknob, there came a loud bang and a great deal of acrid38 smoke billowed from a corner. The young witch in the front row shrieked39: Pink pages flew everywhere as she and her fellows jumped up, looking around for the source of the commotion40. Harry turned the doorknob, stepped into Umbridge’s office, and closed the door behind him.
He felt he had stepped back in time. The room was exactly like Umbridge’s office at Hogwarts: Lace draperies, doilies and dried flowers covered every surface. The walls bore the same ornamental41 plates, each featuring a highly colored, beribboned kitten, gamboling and frisking with sickening cuteness. The desk was covered with a flouncy, flowered cloth. Behind Mad-eye’s eye, a telescopic attachment42 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 wrenched43 the telescope out of the door, leaving a hole behind, pulled the magical eyeball out of it, and placed it in his pocket. The he turned to face the room again, raised his wand, and murmured, “Accio Locker44.”
Nothing happened, but he had not expected it to; no doubt Umbridge knew all about protective charms and spells. He therefore hurried behind her desk and began pulling open all the drawers. He saw quills45 and notebooks and Spellotape; enchanted46 paper clips that coiled snakelike from their drawer and had be beaten back; a fussy47 little lace box full of spare hair bows and clips; but no sign of a locket.
There was a filing cabinet behind the desk: Harry set to searching it. Like Filch’s filing cabinet at Hogwarts, it was full of folders48, each labeled with a name. It was not until Harry reached the bottommost drawer that he saw something to distract him from the search: Mr. Weasley’s 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 Phoenix50.
Family:
Wife (pureblood), seven children, two youngest at Hogwarts. NB: Youngest son currently at home, seriously ill, Ministry inspectors51 have confirmed.
Security Status:
TRACKED. All movements are being monitored. Strong likelihood Undesirable No. 1 will contact (has stayed with Weasley family previously)
“Undesirable Number One,“ Harry muttered under his breath as he replaced Mr. Weasley’s folder49 and 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 sweeping52 look, and his heart skipped a beat. Dumbledore was staring at him from a small rectangular mirror, propped53 up on a bookcase beside the desk.
Harry crossed the room at a run and snatched it up, but realized that the moment he touched it that it was not a mirror at all. Dumbledore was smiling wistfully out of the front cover of a glossy54 book. Harry had not immediately noticed the curly green writing across his hat – The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore – nor the slightly smaller writing across his chest: “by Rita Skeeter, bestselling author of Armando Dippet: Master or Moron55?”
Harry opened the book at random56 and saw a full-page photograph of two teenage boys, both laughing immoderately with their arms around each other’s shoulders.
Dumbledore, now with elbow-length hair, had grown a tiny wispy57 beard that recalled the one on Krum’s chin that had so annoyed Ron. The boy who roared in silent amusement beside Dumbledore had a gleeful, wild look about him. His golden hair fell in curls to his shoulders. Harry wondered whether it was a young Doge, but before he could check the caption58, the door of the office opened.
If Thicknesse had not been looking over his shoulder as he entered, Harry would not have had time to pull the Invisibility Cloak over himself. As it was, he thought Thicknesse might have caught a glimpse of movement, because for a moment or two he remained quite still, staring curiously59 at the place where Harry had just vanished.
Perhaps deciding that that all he had seen was Dumbledore scratching his nose on the front of the book, for Harry had hastily replaced it upon the shelf. Thicknesse finally walked to the desk and pointed60 his wand at the quill standing61 ready in the ink pot. It sprang out and began scribbling a note to Umbridge. Very slowly, hardly daring to breathe, Harry backed out of the office into the open area beyond.
The pamphlet-makers were still clustered around the remains62 of the Decoy Detonator, which continued to hoot63 feebly as it smoked. Harry hurried off up the corridor as the young witch said, “I bet it sneaked64 up here from Experimental Charms, they’re so careless, remember that poisonous duck?”
Speeding back toward the lifts, Harry reviewed his options. It had never been likely that the locket was here at the Ministry, and there was no hope of bewitching its whereabouts out of Umbridge while she was sitting in a crowded court. Their priority now had to be to leave the Ministry before they were exposed, and try again another day. The first thing to do was to find Ron, and then they could work out a way of extracting Hermione from the courtroom.
The lift was empty when it arrived. Harry jumped in and pulled off the Invisibility Cloak as it started its descent. To his enormous relief, when it rattled65 to a halt at level two, a soaking-wet and wild-eyed Ron got in.
“M-morning,” he stammered66 to Harry as the lift set off again.
“Ron, it’s me, Harry!”
“Harry! Blimey, I forgot what you looked like – why isn’t Hermione with you?”
“She had to go down to the courtrooms with Umbridge, she couldn’t refuse, and – ”
But before Harry could finish the lift had stopped again. The doors opened and Mr. Weasley walked inside, talking to an elderly witch whose blonde hair was teased so high it resembled an anthill.
“… I quite understand what you’re saying, Wakanda, but I’m afraid I cannot be party to – ”
Mr. Weasley broke off; he had noticed Harry. It was very strange to have Mr. Weasley glare at him with that much dislike. The lift doors closed and the four of them trundled downward once more.
“Oh hello, Reg,” said Mr. Weasley, looking around at the sound of steady dripping from Ron’s robes. “Isn’t your wife in for questioning today? Er – what’s happened to you? Why are you so wet?”
“Yaxley’s office is raining,” said Ron. He addressed Mr. Weasley’s shoulder, and Harry felt sure he was scared that his father might recognize him if they looked directly into each other’s eyes. “I couldn’t stop it, so they’ve sent me to get Bernie – Pillsworth, I think they said – ”
“Yes, a lot of offices have been raining lately,” said Mr. Weasley. “Did you try Meterolojinx Recanto? It worked for Bletchley.”
“Meteolojinx Recanto?” whispered Ron. “No, I didn’t. Thanks, D – I mean, thanks, Arthur.”
The lift doors opened; the old witch with the anthill hair left, and Ron darted67 past her out of sight. Harry made to follow him, but found his path blocked as Percy Weasley strode into the lift, his nose buried in some papers he was reading.
Not until the doors had clanged shut again did Percy realize he was in a lit with his father. He glanced up, saw Mr. Weasley, turned radish red, and left the lift the moment the doors opened again. For the second time, Harry tried to get out, but this time found his way blocked by Mr. Weasley’s arm.
“One moment, Runcorn.”
The lift doors closed and as they clanked down another floor, Mr. Weasley said, “I hear you had information about Dirk Cresswell.”
Harry had the impression that Mr. Weasley’s anger was no less because of the brush with Percy. He decided68 his best chance was to act stupid.
“Sorry?” he said.
“Don’t pretend, Runcorn,” said Mr. Weasley fiercely. “You tracked down the wizard who faked his family tree, didn’t you?”
“I – so what if I did?” said Harry.
“So Dirk Cresswell is ten times the wizard you are,” said Mr. Weasley quietly, as the lift sank ever lower. “And if he survives Azkaban, you’ll have to answer to him, not to mention his wife, his sons, and his friends – ”
“Arthur,” Harry interrupted, “you know you’re being tracked, don’t you?”
“Is that a threat, Runcorn?” said Mr. Weasley loudly.
“No,” said Harry, “it’s a fact! They’re watching your every move – ”
The lift doors opened. They had reached the Atrium. Mr. Weasley gave Harry a scathing69 look and swept from the lift. Harry stood there, shaken. He wished he was impersonating somebody other than Runcorn…. The lift doors clanged shut.
Harry pulled out the Invisibility Cloak and put it back on. He would try to extricate70 Hermione on his own while Ron was dealing71 with the raining office. When the doors opened, he stepped out into a torch-lit stone passageway quite different from the wood-paneled and carpeted corridors above. As the left rattled away again, Harry shivered slightly, looking toward the distant black door that marked the entrance to the Department of Mysteries.
He set off, his destination not the black door, but the doorway72 he remembered on the left hand side, which opened onto the flight of stairs down to the court chambers73.
His mind grappled with possibilities as he crept down them: He still had a couple of Decoy Detonators, but perhaps it would be better to simply knock on the courtroom door, enter as Runcorn, and ask for a quick word with Mafalda? Of course, he did not know whether Runcorn was sufficiently74 important to get away with this, and even if he managed it, Hermione’s non-reappearance might trigger a search before they were clear of the Ministry….
Lost in thought, he did not immediately register the unnatural75 chill that was creeping over him, as if he were descending76 into fog. It was becoming colder and colder with every step he took; a cold that reached right down his throat and tore at his lungs. And then he felt that stealing sense of despair, or hopelessness, filling him, expanding inside him….
Dementors, he thought.
And as he reached the foot of the stairs and turned to his right he saw a dreadful scene. The dark passage outside the courtrooms was packed with tall, black-hooded figures, their faces completely hidden, their ragged77 breathing the only sound in the place. The petrified78 Muggle-borns brought in for questioning sat huddled80 and shivering on hard wooden benches. Most of them were hiding their faces in their hands, perhaps in an instinctive81 attempt to shield themselves from the dementors’ greedy mouths. Some were accompanied by families, others sat alone. The dementors were gliding82 up and down in front of them, and the cold, and the hopelessness, and the despair of the place laid themselves upon Harry like a curse….
Fight it, he told himself, but he knew that he could not conjure83 a Patronus here without revealing himself instantly. So he moved forward as silently as he could, and with every step he took numbness84 seemed to steal over his brain, but he forced himself to think of Hermione and of Ron, who needed him.
Moving through the towering black figures was terrifying: The eyeless faces hidden beneath their hoods85 turned as he passed, and he felt sure that they sensed him, sensed, perhaps, a human presence that still had some hope, some resilience….
And then, abruptly86 and shockingly amid the frozen silence, one of the dungeon87 doors on the left of the corridor was flung open and screams echoed out of it.
“No, no, I’m half-blood, I’m half-blood, I tell you! My father was a wizard, he was, look him up, Arkie Alderton, he’s a well known broomstick designer, look him up, I tell you – get your hands off me, get your hands off – ”
“This is your final warning,” said Umbridge’s soft voice, magically magnified so that it sounded clearly over the man’s desperate screams. “If you struggle, you will be subjected to the Dementor’s Kiss.”
The man’s screams subsided88, but dry sobs89 echoed through the corridor.
“Take him away,” said Umbridge.
Two dementors appeared in the doorway of the courtroom, their rotting, scabbed hands clutching the upper arms of a wizard who appeared to be fainting. They glided90 away down the corridor with him, and the darkness they trailed behind them swallowed him from sight.
“Next – Mary Cattermole,” called Umbridge.
A small woman stood up; she was trembling from head to foot. Her dark hair was smoothed back into a bun and she wore long plain robes. Her face was completely bloodless. As she passed the dementors, Harry saw her shudder91.
He did it instinctively92, without any sort of plan, because he hated the sight of her walking alone into the dungeon: As the door began to swing closed, he slipped into the courtroom behind her.
It was not the same room in which he had once been interrogated93 for improper94 use of magic. This one was much smaller, though the ceiling was quite as high it gave the claustrophobic sense of being stuck at the bottom of a deep well.
There were more dementors in here, casting their freezing aura over the place; they stood like faceless sentinels in the corners farthest from the high, raised platform. Here, behind a balustrade, sat Umbridge, with Yaxley on one side of her, and Hermione, quite as white-faced as Mrs. Cattermole, on the other. At the foot of the platform, a bight-silver, long-haired cat prowled up and down, up and down, and Harry realized that it was there to protect the prosecutors95 from the despair that emanated96 from the dementors: That was for the accused to feel, not the accusers.
“Sit down,” said Umbridge in her soft, silky voice.
Mrs. Cattermole stumbled to the single seat in the middle of the floor beneath the raised platform. The moment she had sat down, chains clinked out of the arms of the chair and bound her there.
“You are Mary Elizabeth Cattermole?” asked Umbridge.
Mrs. Cattermole gave a single, shaky nod.
“Married to Reginald Cattermole of the Magical Maintenance Department?”
Mrs. Cattermole burst into tears.
“I don’t know where he is, he was supposed to meet me here!”
Umbridge ignored her.
“Mother to Maisie, Ellie and Alfred Cattermole?”
Mrs. Cattermole sobbed97 harder than ever.
“They’re frightened, they think that I might not come home – ”
“Spare us,” spat98 Yaxley. “The brats99 of Mudbloods do not stir our sympathies.”
Mrs. Cattermole’s sobs masked Harry’s footsteps as he made his way carefully toward the steps that led up to the raised platform. The moment he had passed the place where the Patronus cat patrolled, he felt the change in temperature: It was warm and comfortable here. The Patronus, he was sure, was Umbridge’s, and it glowed brightly because she was so happy here, in her element, upholding the twisted laws she had helped to write. Slowly and very carefully he edged his way along the platform behind Umbridge, Yaxley, and Hermione, taking a seat behind the latter. He was worried about making Hermione jump. He thought of casting the Muffliato charm upon Umbridge and Yaxley, but even murmuring the word might cause Hermione alarm. Then Umbridge raised her voice to address Mrs. Cattermole, and Harry seized his chance.
“I’m behind you,” he whispered into Hermione’s ear.
As he had expected, she jumped so violently she nearly overturned the bottle of ink with which she was supposed to be recording100 the interview, but both Umbridge and Yaxley were concentrating upon Mrs. Cattermole, and this went unnoticed.
“A wand was taken from you upon your arrival at the Ministry today, Mrs. Cattermole,” Umbridge was saying. “Eight-and-three-quarter inches, cherry, unicorn-hair core. Do you recognize the description?”
Mrs. Cattermole nodded, mopping her eyes on her sleeve.
“Could you please tell us from which witch or wizard you took that wand?”
“T-took?” sobbed Mrs. Cattermole. “I didn’t t-take it from anybody. I b-bought it when I was eleven years old. It – it – it – chose me.”
She cried harder than ever.
Umbridge laughed a soft girlish laugh that made Harry want to attack her. She leaned forward over the barrier, the better to observe her victim, and something gold swung forward too, and dangled101 over the void: the locket.
Hermione had seen it; she let out a little squeak1, but Umbridge and Yaxley, still intent upon their prey102, were deaf to everything else.
“No,” said Umbridge, “no, I don’t think so, Mrs. Cattermole. Wands only choose witches or wizards. You are not a witch. I have your responses to the questionnaire that was sent to you here – Mafalda, pass them to me.”
Umbridge held out a small hand: She looked so toadlike at that moment that Harry was quite surprised not to see webs between the stubby fingers. Hermione’s hands were shaking with shock. She fumbled103 in a pile of documents balanced on the chair beside her, finally withdrawing a sheaf of parchment with Mrs. Cattermole’s name on it.
“That’s – that’s pretty, Dolores,” she said, pointing at the pendant gleaming in the ruffled104 folds of Umbridge’s blouse.
“What?” snapped Umbridge, glancing down. “Oh yes – an old family heirloom,” she said, patting the locket lying on her large bosom105. “The S stands for Selwyn…. I am related to the Selwyns…. Indeed, there are few pure-blood families to whom I am not related. …A pity,” she continued in a louder voice, flicking106 through Mrs. Cattermole’s questionnaire, “that the same cannot be said for you. ‘Parents professions: greengrocers’.”
Yaxley laughed jeeringly107. Below, the fluffy108 silver cat patrolled up and down, and the dementors stood waiting in the corners.
It was Umbridge’s lie that brought the blood surging into Harry’s brain and obliterated109 his sense of caution – that the locket she had taken as a bribe110 from a petty criminal was being used to bolster111 her own pure-blood credentials112. He raised his wand, not even troubling to keep it concealed113 beneath the Invisibility Cloak, and said,
“Stupefy!”
There was a flash of red light; Umbridge crumpled114 and her forehead hit the edge of the balustrade: Mrs. Cattermole’s papers slid off her lap onto the floor and, down below, the prowling silver cat vanished. Ice-cold air hit them like an oncoming wind: Yaxley, confused, looked around for the source of the trouble and saw Harry’s disembodied hand and wand pointing at him. He tried to draw his own wand, but too late: “Stupefy!”
Yaxley slid to the ground to lie curled on the floor.
“Harry!”
“Hermione, if you think I was going to sit here and let her pretend – ”
“Harry, Mrs. Cattermole!”
Harry whirled around, throwing off the Invisibility Cloak; down below, the dementors had moved out of their corners; they were gliding toward the woman chained to the chair: Whether because the Patronus had vanished or because they sensed that their masters were no longer in control, they seemed to have abandoned restraint. Mrs. Cattermole let out a terrible scream of fear as a slimy, scabbed hand grasped her chin and forced her face back.
“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”
The silver stag soared from the tip of Harry’s wand and leaped toward the dementors, which fell back and melted into the dark shadows again. The stag’s light, more powerful and more warming than the cat’s protection, filled the whole dungeon as it cantered around the room.
“Get the Horcrux,” Harry told Hermione.
He ran back down the steps, stuffing the Invisibility Cloak into his back, and approached Mrs. Cattermole.
“You?” she whispered, gazing into his face. “But – but Reg said you were the one who submitted my name for questioning!”
“Did I?” muttered Harry, tugging115 at the chains binding116 her arms, “Well, I’ve had a change of heart. Diffindo!” Nothing happened. “Hermione, how do I get rid of these chains?”
“Wait, I’m trying something up here – ”
“Hermione, we’re surrounded by dementors!”
“I know that, Harry, but if she wakes up and the locket’s gone – I need to duplicate it – Geminio! There… That should fool her….”
Hermione came running downstairs.
“Let’s see…. Relashio!”
The chains clinked and withdrew into the arms of the chair. Mrs. Cattermole looked just as frightened as ever before.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
“You’re going to leave here with us,” said Harry, pulling her to her feet. “Go home, grab your children, and get out, get out of the country if you’ve got to.
Disguise yourselves and run. You’ve seen how it is, you won’t get anything like a fair hearing here.”
“Harry,” said Hermione, “how are we going to get out of here with all those dementors outside the door?”
“Patronuses,” said Harry, pointing his wand at his own. The stag slowed and walked, still gleaming brightly, toward the door. “As many as we can muster117; do yours, Hermione.”
“Expec – Expecto patronum,” said Hermione. Nothing happened.
“It’s the only spell she ever has trouble with,” Harry told a completely bemused Mrs. Cattermole. “Bit unfortunate, really… Come on Hermione….”
“Expecto patronum!“
A silver otter118 burst from the end of Hermione’s wand and swam gracefully119 through the air to join the stag.
“C’mon,” said Harry, and he led Hermione and Mrs. Cattermole to the door.
When the Patronuses glided out of the dungeon there were cries of shock from the people waiting outside. Harry looked around; the dementors were falling back on both sides of them, melding into the darkness, scattering120 before the silver creatures.
“It’s been decided that you should all go home and go into hiding with your families,“ Harry told the waiting Muggle-born, who were dazzled by the light of the Patronuses and still cowering121 slightly. ”Go abroad if you can. Just get well away from the Ministry. That’s the – er – new official position. Now, if you’ll just follow the Patronuses, you’ll be able to leave the Atrium.“
They managed to get up the stone stops without being intercepted122, but as they approached the lifts Harry started to have misgivings123. If they emerged into the Atrium with a silver stag, and otter soaring alongside it, and twenty or so people, half of them accused Muggle-borns, he could not help feeling that they would attract unwanted attention. He had just reached this unwelcome conclusion when the lift clanged to a halt in front of them.
“Reg!” screamed Mrs. Cattermole, and she threw herself into Ron’s arms. “Runcorn let me out, he attacked Umbridge and Yaxley, and he’s told all of us to leave the country. I think we’d better do it, Reg, I really do, let’s hurry home and fetch the children and – why are you so wet?”
“Water,” muttered Ron, disengaging himself. “Harry, they know there are intruders inside the Ministry, something about a hole in Umbridge’s office door. I reckon we’ve got five minutes if that – ”
Hermione’s Patronus vanished with a pop as she turned a horror struck face to Harry.
“Harry, if we’re trapped here –!”
“We won’t be if we move fast,“ said Harry. He addressed the silent group behind them, who were all gawping at him.
“Who’s got wands?”
About half of them raised their hands.
“Okay, all of you who haven’t got wands need to attach yourself to somebody who has. We’ll need to be fast before they stop us. Come on.”
They managed to cram124 themselves into two lifts. Harry’s Patronus stood sentinel before the golden grilles as they shut and the lifts began to rise.
“Level eight,” said the witch’s cool voice, “Atrium.”
Harry knew at once that they were in trouble. The Atrium was full of people moving from fireplace to fireplace, sealing them off.
“Harry!” squeaked Hermione. “What are we going to –?”
“STOP!” Harry thundered, and the powerful voice of Runcorn echoed through the Atrium: The wizards sealing the fireplaces froze. “Follow me,” he whispered to the group of terrified Muggle-borns, who moved forward in a huddle79, shepherded by Ron and Hermione.
“What’s up, Albert?“ said the same balding wizard who had followed Harry out of the fireplace earlier. He looked nervous.
“This lot need to leave before you seal the exits,” said Harry with all the authority he could muster.
The group of wizards in front of him looked at one another.
“We’ve been told to seal all exits and not let anyone – ”
“Are you contradicting me?“ Harry blustered125. ”Would you like me to have your family tree examined, like I had Dirk Cresswell’s?“
“Sorry!” gasped126 the balding wizard, backing away. “I didn’t mean nothing, Albert, but I thought… I thought they were in for questioning and…”
“Their blood is pure,“ said Harry, and his deep voice echoed impressively through the hall. ”Purer than many of yours, I daresay. Off you go,“ he boomed to the Muggle-borns, who scurried127 forward into the fireplaces and began to vanish in pairs. The Ministry wizards hung back, some looking confused, others scared and fearful.
Then:
“Mary!”
Mrs. Cattermole looked over her shoulder. The real Reg Cattermole, no longer vomiting128 but pale and wan18, had just come running out of a lift.
“R- Reg?”
She looked from her husband to Ron, who swore loudly.
The balding wizard gaped129, his head turning ludicrously from one Reg Cattermole to the other.
“Hey – what’s going on? What is this?”
“Seal the exit! SEAL IT!”
Yaxley had burst out of another lift and was running toward the group beside the fireplaces, into which all of the Muggle-borns but Mrs. Cattermole had now vanished. As the balding wizard lifted his wand, Harry raised an enormous fist and punched him, sending him flying through the air.
“He’s been helping130 Muggle-borns escape, Yaxley!” Harry shouted.
The balding wizard’s colleagues set up and uproar131, under cover of which Ron grabbed Mrs. Cattermole, pulled her into the still-open fireplace, and disappeared.
Confused, Yaxley looked from Harry to the punched wizard, while the real Reg Cattermole screamed, “My wife! Who was that with my wife? What’s going on?”
Harry saw Yaxley’s head turn, saw an inkling of truth dawn on that brutish face.
“Come on!” Harry shouted at Hermione; he seized her hand and they jumped into the fireplace together as Yaxley’s curse sailed over Harry’s head. They spun132 for a few seconds before shooting up out of a toilet into a cubicle133. Harry flung open the door: Ron was standing there beside the sinks, still wrestling with Mrs. Cattermole.
“Reg, I don’t understand – “
“Let go, I’m not your husband, you’ve got to go home!”
There was a noise in the cubicle behind them; Harry looked around; Yaxley had just appeared.
“LET’S GO!” Harry yelled. He seized Hermione by the hand and Ron by the arm and turned on the stop.
Darkness engulfed134 them, along with the sensation of compressing hands, but something was wrong…. Hermione’s hand seemed to be sliding out of his grip….
He wondered whether he was going to suffocate135; he could not breathe or see and the only solid things in the world were Ron’s arm and Hermione’s fingers, which were slowly slipping away….
And then he saw the door to number twelve, Grimmauld Place, with its serpent door knocker, but before he could draw breath, there was a scream and a flash of purple light: Hermione’s hand was suddenly vicelike upon his and everything went dark again.
“哦，玛法达！”乌姆里奇看着赫敏说道，“特拉弗斯送你来的，是不是？”
“哦—是的，”赫敏尖声回答。
“哦，天哪，你一定会做得很好！”乌姆里奇对那个身穿黑色与金色相间衣服的男巫说道。
“那么那个问题解决了。部长，如果玛法达能抽空帮忙保管记录的话，我们就可以直接开始了。”说完，她查了查笔记板。“今天有十个人接受审问，其中还有一个是魔法部雇员的妻子！
啧，啧……在魔法部内部要地居然还会有泥巴种！”她走进电梯站在赫敏旁边，刚才在一旁听她和部长谈话的两名男巫尾随着走了进来。“我们直接下去，玛法达，你会在审判室中找到你需要的一切。早上好，阿尔伯特，你不在这层下吗？”
“是的，我就下。”哈利用蓝科恩低沉的声音说。
哈利走出电梯。金色的格子电梯门在他身后叮叮当当地关上了。
他回过头去，看到赫敏满脸紧张地被两个高个子男巫夹在中间，肩上搭着乌姆里奇的天鹅绒披肩，慢慢慢慢地随着下降的电梯消失在了视线里。
“什么风把你吹来了，蓝科恩？”这时，新上任的魔法部长问道。他修长的黑色头发以及胡须中都夹着银丝，突出的前额遮住了他闪闪发光的眼睛，让哈利感觉仿佛是在一只岩石下向外偷看的螃蟹。
“我想和——”那一瞬间哈利有些犹豫，“亚瑟韦斯莱谈一谈。有人说他在一楼。”
“哦，”普拉姆·西克尼斯说道，“他被发现与那个不受欢迎的人有联系，对吗？”
“没，”哈利说，感觉喉咙有些干。“没有，没那种事。”
“哦，好吧。但那在我看来只是时间问题，”西克尼斯说。“要我说，纯种血统的背叛者和泥巴种一样可恶。回见，蓝科恩。”
“回见，部长。”
哈利目视着西克尼斯顺着铺了厚地毯的走廊渐渐走远。部长一走出他的视线，哈利就马上把隐形衣从他厚重的黑色长袍下拖出来罩在自己身上，然后顺着走廊向相反方向走去。蓝科恩长得太高了，他不得不弯下腰才能把那双大脚也藏在隐形衣里面。
他走过一扇扇反射着微光的木门——每一扇上都挂着标有部门和使用者姓名的金属牌。魔法部的权力，复杂以及深不可测都使哈利心中感到一阵阵恐慌，并且给了他一种无形的重压。他开始觉得他和罗恩，赫敏在过去的四个礼拜中精心策划的计划简直幼稚得可笑。他们将所有的精力花在研究如何能深不知鬼不觉地溜进魔法部内部：可他们一点儿也没考虑过一旦他们被迫分开该怎么办。现在赫敏被困在法庭上作记录，那毫无疑问要持续好几个小时；罗恩在努力地施展魔法——哈利确定那些魔法超出了他的能力范围——而结果则很有可能决定一个女人的自由与否；而他，哈利，正在魔法部顶层转悠，心里很清楚他的智囊团刚刚坐着电梯下了楼。
哈利停下来斜倚着一堵墙，试着决定该怎么办。周围是一片寂静：这里没有忙乱的人群，没有七嘴八舌的说话声，也没有踢踢踏踏的脚步声。铺着紫色地毯的走廊就像被人施了‘闭耳塞听’咒一样安静。
她的办公室一定就在这附近，哈利想。
乌姆里奇把她的珠宝放在办公室里似乎是最不可能的事情，但从另一方面来说不去搜查一下她的办公室以确认似乎也很愚蠢。因此哈利又重新沿着走廊出发了，途中没有遇到什么人，除了一个正皱着眉头小声地向一支漂浮在他面前的羽毛笔发出指令的男巫，而那支羽毛笔正在一卷羊皮纸上胡乱涂写着什么。
哈利一边走一边注意着每扇门上的名字。当他转过弯，顺着另一条走廊走到一半的时候，眼前出现了一块宽敞开阔的空地。有十二名男女巫师坐在排列成行的小桌子后面——尽管十分的光滑并且没有涂鸦，但那些桌子和学校里面的并没什么不同。哈利停下脚步注视着他们，因为那场面确实很吸引人。所有的人整齐划一地挥舞，旋动着他们的魔杖，许多彩色的正方形纸片像粉红色的小风筝似的向各个方向飞舞。过了一会儿，哈利意识到他们的行动是有节奏有规则的——因为他们身边的纸片全都组成了同样的图案。又过了一会儿，哈利意识到他所看到的是魔法手册的制作——那些正方形纸片是书页，当它们被装订，折叠，再施上魔法之后，就在每个男巫或者女巫的旁边摞成整齐的书堆。尽管他们如此专注于自己的工作，以至于哈利怀疑如果有人从地毯上走过他们都注意不到。但他还是尽量蹑手蹑脚地靠近，从一个年轻女巫身边抽出一本已经完成的手册，在隐形衣下察看了一下。手册粉红色的封面上醒目地印着金色的标题：
《泥巴种，以及他们给平静的纯血社会带来的危害》
标题下面有这样一幅画：一朵红玫瑰的花瓣中间画着一张痴笑的脸，旁边一株满脸怒容浑身利刺的野草正试图扼死它。手册上面没有作者的名字，但是当哈利查看手册时，他右手手背上的伤口似乎又有一些刺痛。这时他旁边那个年轻女巫的话证实了他的猜测：“谁知道那个老巫婆会不会审问那些泥巴种们一整天？”她一边说还一边挥舞旋动着她的魔杖。
“小声点，”她旁边的一个男巫紧张地四处看了看；他桌上的一页书滑落到了地上。
“怎么，难道现在她除了一只魔眼之外又搞到了一副魔耳吗？”
那个女巫冲他们身处之地对面的一扇华丽的桃花心木门看去；哈利也向那儿一看，顿时火冒三丈。本来应该是麻瓜前门猫眼的位置上现在嵌进了一只又大又圆，微微泛蓝的眼球——这是一件对任何一个曾见过阿拉斯特穆迪的人来说再熟悉不过的东西。
有那么一瞬间，哈利忘记了他在哪里以及他该做什么：他甚至忘记了他身穿隐形衣。他大步走向那扇门去查看那只眼球。那东西静止着，一动不动，直直地向上盯着。下面的金属牌上写着：
德洛丽斯 乌姆里奇
魔法部高级副部长
那下面的一块略新的金属牌上写着：
混血巫师登记委员会会长
哈利回头看着那些正在制作手册的巫师：尽管他们专注于自己的工作，他也不敢保证假如面前的一间空办公室的门开了，他们不会注意到。因此他伸手从里面的口袋里掏出了一个带有会动的腿以及橡胶制的球状触角的玩意——那是弗雷德兄弟去年送给他的诱饵炸弹。他在隐形衣中蹲下，把诱饵炸弹放在了地上。
那个小玩意儿立刻从那群人的腿间跑了出去。哈利把他的手放在门把手上等待着，片刻之后，角落里传来了一声巨响，伴随着滚滚翻腾、辛辣刺鼻的烟雾。第一排的那个年轻女巫尖叫了一声，吓得她的同事们也跳起来，惊慌失措地在漫天飞舞的粉红色纸片四处寻找这场骚乱的源头。哈利趁机转动门把手打开门，溜进乌姆里奇的办公室，回身关上了门。
哈利走进办公室，差点以为时光倒流了——这间办公室与乌姆里奇在霍格沃茨的那个几乎一模一样：蕾丝花边的织物，小块桌布和干花铺得到处都是。墙上挂着同样的装饰盘子，每个盘子上都画着一只颜色夸张系着缎带的小猫，玩耍嬉戏中带着令人作呕的装腔作势。桌子上铺着一块装饰着花边的桌布。在疯眼汉的魔眼后面，还设置了一个能望远的伸缩装置，以便乌姆里奇监视门外的工作人员。哈利凑到魔眼跟前——他们依然围在诱敌炸药旁边。他猛地把望远镜从门上扭下来，只留下门上的洞，再把魔眼从里面抠出来装进自己的口袋。然后他再次转过身面对整个房间，举起魔杖，低声说道：“储物盒飞来。”
什么也没发生。不过哈利也没指望会发生什么，毫无疑问乌姆里奇很精通保护性的魔法和咒语。他只好快步走到她的桌子后面，一个抽屉一个抽屉地翻找起来。他找到一些羽毛笔、笔记本、魔法胶布，还有被施了魔法的盘绕成蛇一般的纸夹——它们把哈利的手咬了回去；一只装满了备用发带和发夹的小箱子——上边满是装饰繁琐的花边；但是没有储物盒。
桌子后面还有一个档案橱柜，哈里转而开始在橱柜里翻找。就费尔奇在霍格沃茨的档案橱柜一样，它里面装满了文件夹，每个上面都贴着一张写有姓名的标签。哈利的搜索一无所获，直到他翻到最后一个抽屉的时候才看见一样吸引了他注意力的东西：韦斯莱先生的档案。
他抽出那份档案打开读了起来：
亚瑟·韦斯莱
血统情况：纯种，但有令人无法接受的支持麻瓜倾向。凤凰社的已知成员。
家庭情况：妻子（纯种），七个子女，最小的两个现就读于霍格沃茨。注意：经魔法部检查员确认，其最小的儿子现重病在家。
安全情况：被监视。一切行动均受到监视。头号不受欢迎人物极有可能与之联系（曾与韦斯莱一家共同居住）
“头号不受欢迎人物，”哈利一边小声嘟囔着，一边把韦斯莱先生的文件夹放回原处，关上了抽屉。当他站起身来扫视整间办公室以寻找新的可能藏物品的地方时，注意到墙上有一幅他自己的海报，“头号不受欢迎人物”几个大字醒目地印在他的胸口上，这下他可知道“头号不受欢迎人物”是谁了，而且确信无疑。那幅海报上还贴着一小张粉红色的便签，便签角上画着一只小猫。哈利走过去，看到乌姆里奇在上面写着：“即将归案。”
哈利从未像现在这样生气，但他还是强压住怒火，在那些装干花的瓶子和篮子里胡乱摸索，不出他的意料，储物盒也不在那些地方。哈利最后一次扫视了一下这间办公室，突然间心脏仿佛停止了跳动。邓布利多正从一面小小的，长方形的，搁在桌子旁边的书柜上的镜子里，凝视着他。哈利跑着穿过房间，一把拿起那面镜子，他顿时泄了气——那跟本就不是一面镜子。邓布利多是在一本平滑的书的封面上充满希望地向他微笑。哈利并没有马上注意到邓布利多帽子上那些卷曲的绿色字体——邓布利多的人生与谎言——也没有注意到他胸口那些稍小一些的字：“丽塔斯基曼著，预言家日报畅销作家：智者还是痴人？”
哈利随便一翻，就看到一张占满了整个页面的照片，上面是两个互相搂着肩膀大笑着的年轻人。如今的邓布利多银发已及肘长，那时却只有几根稀疏柔软的胡须，让人想起克拉布唇上那些曾令罗恩如此厌恶的东西。站在邓布利多旁边无声地大笑着的那个男孩子脸上带着愉快而兴奋的表情，金色的头发卷曲着披在肩部。哈利怀疑也许这是年轻时的多戈。他还没来得及查看照片的说明，乌姆里奇办公室的门突然开了。
如果西克尼斯进来时没有回头看的话，那么哈利决不会有时间把隐形衣罩在自己身上。事实上，他认为西克尼斯可能瞥见了他的动作，因为有那么一会儿他一动不动，好奇地盯着哈利刚才消失的地方。也许他是在认定自己刚才所看见的不过是封面上的邓布利多抠鼻子的动作，因为哈利在慌乱中将那本书放回了架子上。西克尼斯最后还是走向桌子，拿起他的魔杖指向墨水瓶里的羽毛笔。羽毛笔跳了出来，潦草地书写着给乌姆里奇的便签。这时哈利大气儿都不敢出，慢慢地退出办公室来到外面的空地上。
那些制作手册的巫师们仍然围在诱饵炸弹旁，它的残骸仍在时不时发出微弱的呜呜声并散发出小股的烟雾。那个年轻的女巫说：“我敢打赌这是新型魔法试验部在搞鬼，他们总是那么不小心，还记得上次那只有毒的鸭子吗？”趁着她说话的工夫，哈利赶紧顺着走廊跑开了。
在飞速跑回电梯的路上，哈利想着下一步该干什么。那个储物盒绝不可能在魔法部里，他也绝不可能给身处拥挤的法庭里的乌姆里奇下咒让她说出那东西的下落。当务之急是在身份暴露之前离开魔法部，然后改天再尝试。所以现在要做的就是设法找到罗恩，这样他们就可以想出一个办法把赫敏从审判室里给救出来。
电梯到达时空空如也，哈利一跳进去就把隐形衣从身上拽了下来。这时电梯也开始下降，到达二层时却突然‘咔哒’一声猛地停了下来。看到走进来的是浑身湿透，愤怒不已的罗恩，哈利一下子松了口气。
“早-早上好。”他结结巴巴地冲哈利说，电梯又重新出发了。
“罗恩，是我，哈利！”
“哈利！啊呀，我忘了你长什么样了——赫敏怎么没和你在一起？”
“她不得不和乌姆里奇一起去下面的审判室，她没法拒绝，而且——”
哈利还没把话说完，电梯又停下了。门打开后，韦斯莱先生同一位老年女巫边谈边走了进来，她的头发扎的很高，就像是一座蚁丘。
“哦，你好，雷，”韦斯莱先生听到罗恩长袍上的水滴持续滴下的声音，四处张望着。“今天你的妻子没来打听什么吗？呃－那是怎么了？你怎么浑身都湿透了？”
“亚克斯利的办公室在下雨，”罗恩对着韦斯莱先生的肩膀说。哈利可以肯定罗恩是在担心如果他们直视对方的眼睛，那么他的父亲就可能认出他来。“我没办法让它停下来，所以他们派我去找伯尼·皮尔斯沃斯，我想他们说的是——”
“是的，最近很多办公室都在下雨，”韦斯莱先生说。“你试过去找麦特罗洛金克斯·雷卡托了吗？它为布莱切利工作。”
“麦特罗洛金克斯·雷卡托？”罗恩小声说。“不，我还没有。谢谢你，爸－我是说，谢谢你，亚瑟。”
电梯门打开了，梳着蚁丘发型的那个老年女巫走了出去，罗恩飞奔着跑过她的身边，消失在了哈利的视野中。哈利想跟上他，却发现这时珀西
韦斯莱大步走进电梯堵住了他的路。珀西正把头埋在几页纸中读着什么，电梯门又叮叮当当地关上后，他才意识到他正和自己的父亲在一个电梯里。他抬起头看见韦斯莱先生，脸立刻变得像胡萝卜一样红。电梯门再开的时候他飞快地跑了出去。于是哈利再次试着下电梯，可这次，韦斯莱先生用胳膊挡住了他。
“等一下，蓝科恩。”
电梯关上了，载着他们叮叮当当地向下行。这时韦斯莱先生说：“我听说你有德克·克莱斯韦的消息。”
哈利感觉韦斯莱先生的怒火因为刚才和珀西的小冲突而加剧了，所以他认为他最好的选择就是装傻。
“你说什么？”
“别装傻了，蓝科恩，”韦斯莱先生暴躁地说，“你抓到了那个伪造他家谱的巫师，是不是？”
“我——就算我抓到了那又怎么样？”哈利说。
‘我说，德克·克莱斯韦是一个胜过你十倍的巫师，”韦斯莱先生轻声说，电梯下得更深了。“如果他从阿兹卡班活着逃出来的话，你得对他有个交待，更不用说他的妻子，儿子，和他的朋友——”
“亚瑟，”哈利打断了他的话，“你知道你正在被监视，是吧？”
“你是在威胁我吗，蓝科恩？”韦斯莱先生大声说。
“不，”哈利说，“这是事实！他们在监视你的一举一动－”
电梯门打开。他们已经抵达了中厅。韦斯莱先生严厉地看了哈利一眼，快步走出电梯。哈利站在那里，微微有些发抖。他多么希望他变成的是其他人而不是蓝科恩……电梯门又叮叮当当地关上了。哈利拿出隐形衣重新披在身上，罗恩去处理那些下雨的办公室的时候他得试着一个人去救出赫敏。电梯门打开时，他步入了一条与上面那些嵌着木地板铺着地毯的走廊完全不同的被火把照亮的石制通道。电梯又吱吱作响地离开了，哈利微微颤抖着，看着远处神秘事物司入口处那扇黑色的大门。
他迈开了脚步，不是向那扇黑门，而是向记忆中那个通往能下到审判室的一段楼梯的门道走去。他一边缓缓走下楼梯，一边在脑中构想着各种可能的计划：他身上还有一些诱饵炸弹，不过也许直接敲响审判室的门，以蓝科恩的身份直接进去要求和玛法达说几句话会更好？当然，他并不知道蓝科恩是否是一个重要到足以成功完成这个计划的人物，而且即使他设法做到了，在他们逃离魔法部的情况之前，赫敏的失踪也可能引发一场搜查——
哈利陷入了沉思，并没有立刻察觉正在渐渐逼近他的那种不寻常的寒意，他好像掉进了冰冷的迷雾中。每走一步都会觉得更加寒冷，那是一种足以冻结他的喉咙，撕碎他的内脏的寒冷。然后他感到那种绝望，无助的感觉笼罩了他，在他的身体里面扩散……
是摄魂怪，哈利想。
当他下到那段楼梯的底部，向右一转，哈利看到了可怕的一幕。审判室外面黑暗的通道上挤满了高大的，带着黑色头巾的身影，他们的脸完全藏在斗篷里面，寂静的通道里只有他们呼吸时断断续续嘶哑的声音。那些被带来问话的麻瓜巫师们显然被吓坏了，在冰冷的木制长椅上蜷缩成一团瑟瑟发抖。他们中的大部分人都把脸深深地埋进自己的手中，也许是出于本能地想要在摄魂怪那充满渴望的贪婪的嘴唇下保护自己。有些人有家人陪同，其他的则独自坐着。那些摄魂怪在他们面前来回滑行。那里的寒冷，无助以及绝望让哈利觉得简直像是一场灾难。
战胜它，哈利告诉自己，但是他知道，在这里他无法在不暴露自己的情况下召唤出一个守护神。所以他只好尽可能悄无声息地向前走，每走一步他都能感到悄悄弥漫在他头脑中的麻木感，但是他强迫自己去想赫敏和罗恩，他们需要他。
穿过那些高大的黑色身影是很可怕的事情：哈利从他们身旁经过时，那隐藏在斗篷下面的没有眼睛的脸突然转了过来。他确信那些摄魂怪感觉到了他，感觉到了，也许，一个仍然有一些希望和欢乐的生命的存在．．．
就在那时，在那可怕地，在几乎要冻结的寂静中，走廊左边一间地牢的门突然被打开了，尖叫声回响着传了出来。
“不，不，我是混血，我是混血，我告诉你！我父亲是个男巫，他是，去查查他的资料，阿奇·阿尔德通，他是个有名的帚柄设计师，去查查他的资料，我告诉你——把你的手从我身上拿开，把你的手拿开——”
“这是给你的最后一次警告，”乌姆里奇用她甜腻的，用魔法放大过的嗓音说，使之在那男人绝望的喊叫声中听起来依然清晰。“如果再你挣扎，就给你一个‘摄魂怪的吻’．”
男人的尖叫声平息了，但是他干涩的抽泣声依然在走廊中回响。
“把他带走。”乌姆里奇说。
两个摄魂怪出现在审判室外的走廊上，用他们腐臭，结痂的双手抓住那个看起来已经不省人事的男巫的胳膊。他们架着他，沿着走廊滑行离开，他们所到之处都慢慢暗了下来，失去了光明，直到什么也看不见。
“下一个——玛丽 凯特莫尔，”乌姆里奇叫道。
一个小个子女人站了起来，从头到脚都在发抖。她穿着朴素的长袍，黑色的头发在脑后柔顺地绾成一个髻。她的脸毫无血色。她穿过那些摄魂怪时，哈利看到她在颤抖。
当门缓缓关上时，哈利跟在她身后溜进了地牢——他那样做了完全是出自本能，事先没有任何计划，因为他讨厌她独自走进地牢时的情景。
这不是哈利过去因为滥用魔法而被审问的那个地牢，这个要小一些，尽管天花板还是一样矮——这让人有一种被囚禁在深井井底，像是患了幽闭恐惧症的感觉。
里面有更多的摄魂怪，面无表情地像哨兵一样站在房间的角落里，所散发出的寒意笼罩着整个地牢。审判台的栏杆后面坐着乌姆里奇，她的一边是亚克斯利，另一边是同凯特莫尔夫人一样脸色苍白的赫敏。在平台的底下，一只银色的长毛猫来来去去的巡游着。哈利意识到它是用来保护那些原告，不让他们被摄魂怪释放出的绝望所感染的：绝望是为被告，而不是为原告准备的。
“请坐吧。” 乌姆里奇依旧用她那甜腻的声音说道。
凯特莫尔夫人跌跌撞撞地走下平台，在底层地板正中央的单人椅上坐下了。椅子扶手上弹出的镣铐立刻将她绑住了。
“你就是玛丽－伊丽莎白－凯特莫尔吗？”乌姆里奇问。
凯特莫尔夫人浑身颤抖着点了一下头。
“你同魔法维修保养处的雷金纳德－凯特莫尔结婚了是吗？”
凯特莫尔夫人突然大哭起来。“我不知道他在哪里，他本该在这儿等我的！”
乌姆里奇没有理她。“你是梅齐，埃莉和阿尔弗雷德- 凯特莫尔的母亲是吗？”
凯特莫尔夫人哭得更加厉害了。“他们一定吓坏了。他们以为我回不了家了——”
“请原谅，”亚克斯利打断了她。“我们不会同情泥巴种的孩子。”
凯特莫尔夫人的抽泣掩盖了哈利的脚步声，让他得以小心翼翼地来到通往审判台的楼梯前。穿过守护神猫巡游的地带的那一瞬间，哈利明显感到了气氛的不同：这里温暖而舒适。他可以肯定那只猫是乌姆里奇召唤的守护神，而且它浑身散发着耀眼的光芒，这是因为乌姆里奇在这里很开心——这是她的地盘，又是在施行她帮忙编写的那部一点也不正直的法律。
哈利十分小心地在乌姆里奇，亚克斯利和赫敏身后的平台上慢慢移动着，然后在后面没有人的一排坐了下来。他担心他会让赫敏吓得跳起来。他甚至考虑着给乌姆里奇和亚克斯利施一个‘闭耳塞听’咒，可即使是小声念咒语的声音也会引起赫敏的警觉。这时乌姆里奇抬高了声音对凯特莫尔夫人说话，哈利抓住了这次机会。
“我在你后面。”他在赫敏的耳旁低声说。
正如他所料，赫敏猛地一惊，差点打翻那个用来记录谈话内容的墨水瓶，不过乌姆里奇和亚克斯利的注意力都在凯特莫尔夫人的身上，所以赫敏的举动并没有被发现。
“今天你到达魔法部的时候，我们从你身上搜出了一根魔杖，凯特莫尔夫人，”乌姆里奇说道，“八又四分之三英寸，樱桃木，里面是一根独角兽的毛。对吗？”
凯特莫尔夫人点点头，用她的袖子擦了擦眼睛。
“你能告诉我们你是从哪个巫师的手中夺得这根魔杖的吗？”
“夺……夺得？”凯特莫尔夫人抽噎着说，“我没有从任何人手中夺……夺得它。这根魔杖是我十一岁时买的，它……它……它选择了我。”
她哭得比之前更厉害了。
乌姆里奇发出了一声小女孩般的笑声，让哈利有一种想扁她的冲动。她把身体前倾越过栏杆，以便更好的观察她的‘受害者’。一件金色的东西也随之蹦了出来，在她胸前来回晃动：是那个储物盒。
赫敏看到它，发出了一声低低的惊呼，不过乌姆里奇和亚克斯利的注意力仍在他们的‘猎物’身上，根本听不见其它的声音。
“不，”乌姆里奇说，“不，不是这样，凯特莫尔夫人。魔杖只选择巫师，而你不是巫师。我这儿有一份你填的问卷调查表——玛法达，把它递给我。”
乌姆里奇伸出她那小小的手：那一刻她显得如此的令人厌恶，以至于哈利居然没有看见她又短又粗的手指间的蹼。赫敏的手因为震惊而颤抖着。她在放在身边椅子上的那堆文件中摸索着，最后终于拿出了一卷写有凯特莫尔夫人名字的羊皮纸。
“那——那真漂亮，德洛丽斯，”她用手指了指乌姆里奇上衣褶皱中那个闪闪发光的挂坠。
“什么？”乌姆里奇突然严厉地说，同时向下看了看，“哦，是的——一件旧的传家宝。”她拍了拍挂在胸口的那个小盒。“这个‘Ｓ’代表着塞尔温……我和塞尔温家族有些亲缘关系……事实上，我几乎和所有纯血家族都保有这种关系……真遗憾，”她浏览了一下凯特莫尔夫人的问卷，用更大的声音说，“你和我可不一样，‘父母职业：蔬菜水果商。’”
亚克斯利嘲弄似的笑了一下。平台下面，毛茸茸的守护神猫依然在来来回回地巡视着，摄魂怪站在角落里等待着。
乌姆里奇的谎言让哈利的血液直往上涌，把谨慎小心抛到了脑后——一个卑微的罪犯用来贿赂她的坠饰盒，现在却被她用来证明她自己的纯巫师血统。他举起自己的魔杖，甚至懒得把它藏在隐形衣下面，大喊道：“昏昏倒地！”
一道红光闪过，乌姆里奇倒了下来，头撞在栏杆的边缘。凯特莫尔夫人的文件从她的大腿上滑落到地板上，平台下面那只正在巡视的银色的猫也突然消失了。顿时阵阵寒意向他们袭来。亚克斯利困惑地四处张望着寻找事故的来源，看到哈利隐形衣下的手正拿着魔杖指向他，他试着拔出他自己的魔杖，可是已经太晚了：“昏昏倒地！”
亚克斯利倒了下去，在地板上蜷成一团。
“哈利！”
“赫敏，如果你认为我应该坐在这儿听任她胡说八道——”
“哈利，快救救凯特莫尔夫人！ ”
哈利一把拽下隐形衣，转过身去。平台下面，那些摄魂怪已经离开了角落，向那个被锁在椅子上的女人滑行过去。不知是因为守护神消失了，还是因为他们感觉到他们的主人已经失去了控制他们的力量，那些摄魂怪没有继续克制他们的渴望。
当一只结痂的，粘乎乎的手抓住凯特莫尔夫人的下巴并把她的脸抬起来的时候，凯特莫尔夫人发出了一声凄
收听单词发音 |
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squeak
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| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
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squeaked
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的过去式和过去分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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crab
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| n.螃蟹，偏航，脾气乖戾的人，酸苹果；vi.捕蟹，偏航，发牢骚；vt.使偏航，发脾气 | |
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undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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traitors
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| 卖国贼( traitor的名词复数 )； 叛徒； 背叛者； 背信弃义的人 | |
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tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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plaque
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| n.饰板，匾，(医)血小板 | |
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complexity
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| n.复杂(性)，复杂的事物 | |
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concocting
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| v.将（尤指通常不相配合的）成分混合成某物( concoct的现在分词 )；调制；编造；捏造 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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jewelry
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| n.（jewllery）（总称）珠宝 | |
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quill
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| n.羽毛管；v.给（织物或衣服）作皱褶 | |
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scribbling
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| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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mesmerizing
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| adj.有吸引力的，有魅力的v.使入迷( mesmerize的现在分词 ) | |
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unison
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| n.步调一致，行动一致 | |
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petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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fangs
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| n.（尤指狗和狼的）长而尖的牙( fang的名词复数 )；（蛇的）毒牙；罐座 | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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tingle
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| vi.感到刺痛，感到激动；n.刺痛，激动 | |
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interrogating
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| n.询问技术v.询问( interrogate的现在分词 )；审问；（在计算机或其他机器上）查询 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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iris
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| n.虹膜，彩虹 | |
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moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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registration
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| n.登记，注册，挂号 | |
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crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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scuttled
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| v.使船沉没( scuttle的过去式和过去分词 )；快跑，急走 | |
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acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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39
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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41
ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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42
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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43
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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44
locker
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| n.更衣箱，储物柜，冷藏室，上锁的人 | |
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45
quills
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| n.（刺猬或豪猪的）刺( quill的名词复数 )；羽毛管；翮；纡管 | |
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46
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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47
fussy
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| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
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48
folders
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| n.文件夹( folder的名词复数 )；纸夹；（某些计算机系统中的）文件夹；页面叠 | |
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49
folder
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| n.纸夹，文件夹 | |
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50
phoenix
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| n.凤凰，长生(不死)鸟；引申为重生 | |
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51
inspectors
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| n.检查员( inspector的名词复数 )；（英国公共汽车或火车上的）查票员；（警察）巡官；检阅官 | |
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52
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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53
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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55
moron
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| n.极蠢之人，低能儿 | |
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56
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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57
wispy
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| adj.模糊的；纤细的 | |
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58
caption
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| n.说明，字幕，标题；v.加上标题，加上说明 | |
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59
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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60
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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61
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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62
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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63
hoot
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| n.鸟叫声，汽车的喇叭声； v.使汽车鸣喇叭 | |
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64
sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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65
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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66
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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68
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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69
scathing
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| adj.（言词、文章）严厉的，尖刻的；不留情的adv.严厉地，尖刻地v.伤害，损害（尤指使之枯萎）( scathe的现在分词) | |
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70
extricate
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| v.拯救，救出；解脱 | |
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71
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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72
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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73
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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74
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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75
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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76
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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77
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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78
petrified
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| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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79
huddle
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| vi.挤作一团；蜷缩；vt.聚集；n.挤在一起的人 | |
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80
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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81
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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82
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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83
conjure
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| v.恳求，祈求；变魔术，变戏法 | |
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84
numbness
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| n.无感觉，麻木，惊呆 | |
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85
hoods
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| n.兜帽( hood的名词复数 )；头巾；（汽车、童车等的）折合式车篷；汽车发动机罩v.兜帽( hood的第三人称单数 )；头巾；（汽车、童车等的）折合式车篷；汽车发动机罩 | |
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86
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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87
dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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88
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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89
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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90
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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91
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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92
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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93
interrogated
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| v.询问( interrogate的过去式和过去分词 )；审问；（在计算机或其他机器上）查询 | |
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94
improper
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| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
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95
prosecutors
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| 检举人( prosecutor的名词复数 )； 告发人； 起诉人； 公诉人 | |
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96
emanated
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| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的过去式和过去分词 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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97
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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98
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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99
brats
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| n.调皮捣蛋的孩子( brat的名词复数 ) | |
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100
recording
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| n.录音，记录 | |
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101
dangled
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| 悬吊着( dangle的过去式和过去分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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102
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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103
fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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104
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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105
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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106
flicking
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的现在分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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107
jeeringly
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| adv.嘲弄地 | |
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108
fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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109
obliterated
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| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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110
bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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111
bolster
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| n.枕垫；v.支持，鼓励 | |
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112
credentials
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| n.证明，资格，证明书，证件 | |
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113
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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114
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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115
tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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116
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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117
muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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118
otter
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| n.水獭 | |
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119
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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120
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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121
cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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122
intercepted
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| 拦截( intercept的过去式和过去分词 )； 截住； 截击； 拦阻 | |
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123
misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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124
cram
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| v.填塞，塞满，临时抱佛脚，为考试而学习 | |
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125
blustered
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| v.外强中干的威吓( bluster的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮；（风）呼啸；狂吹 | |
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126
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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127
scurried
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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128
vomiting
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| 吐 | |
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129
gaped
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| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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130
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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131
uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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132
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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133
cubicle
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| n.大房间中隔出的小室 | |
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134
engulfed
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| v.吞没，包住( engulf的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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135
suffocate
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| vt.使窒息，使缺氧，阻碍；vi.窒息，窒息而亡，阻碍发展 | |
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