There was a loud BANG from the grounds. Several people cried ‘Ouch!’ when they poked themselves in the face with the ends of their telescopes as they hastened to see what was going on below.
Hagrid’s door had burst open and by the light flooding out of the cabin they saw him quite clearly, a massive figure roaring and brandishing his fists, surrounded by six people, all of whom, judging by the tiny threads of red light they were casting in his direction, seemed to be attempting to Stun him.
‘No!’ cried Hermione.
‘My dear!’ said Professor Tofty in a scandalised voice. ‘This is an examination!’
But nobody was paying the slightest attention to their star-charts any more. Jets of red light were still flying about beside Hagrid’s cabin, yet somehow they seemed to be bouncing off him; he was still upright and still, as far as Harry could see, fighting. Cries and yells echoed across the grounds; a man yelled, ‘Be reasonable, Hagrid!’
Hagrid roared, ‘Reasonable be damned, yeh won’ take me like this, Dawlish!’
Harry could see the tiny outline of Fang, attempting to defend Hagrid, leaping repeatedly at the wizards surrounding him until a Stunning Spell caught him and he fell to the ground. Hagrid gave a howl of fury, lifted the culprit bodily from the ground and threw him; the man flew what looked like ten feet and did not get up again. Hermione gasped, both hands over her mouth; Harry looked round at Ron and saw that he, too, was looking scared. None of them had ever seen Hagrid in a real temper before.
‘Look!’ squealed Parvati, who was leaning over the parapet and pointing to the foot of the castle where the front doors had opened again; more light was spilling out on to the dark lawn and a single long black shadow was now rippling across the lawn.
‘Now, really!’ said Professor Tofty anxiously. ‘Only sixteen minutes left, you know!’
But nobody paid him the slightest attention: they were watching the person now sprinting towards the battle beside Hagrid’s cabin.
‘How dare you!’ the figure shouted as she ran. ‘How dare you!’
‘It’s McGonagall!’ whispered Hermione.
‘Leave him alone! Alone, I say!’ said Professor McGonagall’s voice through the darkness. ‘On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such –’
Hermione, Parvati and Lavender all screamed. The figures around the cabin had shot no fewer than four Stunners at Professor McGonagall. Halfway between cabin and castle the red beams collided with her; for a moment she looked luminous and glowed an eerie red, then she lifted right off her feet, landed hard on her back, and moved no more.
‘Galloping gargoyles!’ shouted Professor Tofty, who also seemed to have forgotten the exam completely. ‘Not so much as a warning! Outrageous behaviour!’
‘COWARDS!’ bellowed Hagrid; his voice carried clearly to the top of the tower, and several lights flickered back on inside the castle. ‘RUDDY COWARDS! HAVE SOME O’ THAT – AN’ THAT –’
‘Oh my –’ gasped Hermione.
Hagrid took two massive swipes at his closest attackers; judging by their immediate collapse, they had been knocked cold. Harry saw Hagrid double over, and thought he had finally been overcome by a spell. But, on the contrary, next moment Hagrid was standing again with what appeared to be a sack on his back – then Harry realised that Fang’s limp body was draped around his shoulders.
‘Get him, get him!’ screamed Umbridge, but her remaining helper seemed highly reluctant to go within reach of Hagrid’s fists; indeed, he was backing away so fast he tripped over one of his unconscious colleagues and fell over. Hagrid had turned and begun to run with Fang still hung around his neck. Umbridge sent one last Stunning Spell after him but it missed; and Hagrid, running full-pelt towards the distant gates, disappeared into the darkness.
There was a long minute’s quivering silence as everybody gazed open-mouthed into the grounds. Then Professor Tofty’s voice said feebly, ‘Um … five minutes to go, everybody.’
Though he had only filled in two-thirds of his chart, Harry was desperate for the exam to end. When it came at last he, Ron and Hermione forced their telescopes haphazardly back into their holders and dashed back down the spiral staircase. None of the students were going to bed; they were all talking loudly and excitedly at the foot of the stairs about what they had witnessed.
‘That evil woman!’ gasped Hermione, who seemed to be having difficulty talking due to rage. ‘Trying to sneak up on Hagrid in the dead of night!’
‘She clearly wanted to avoid another scene like Trelawney’s,’ said Ernie Macmillan sagely, squeezing over to join them.
‘Hagrid did well, didn’t he?’ said Ron, who looked more alarmed than impressed. ‘How come all the spells bounced off him?’
‘It’ll be his giant blood,’ said Hermione shakily. ‘It’s very hard to Stun a giant, they’re like trolls, really tough … but poor Professor McGonagall … four Stunners straight in the chest and she’s not exactly young, is she?’
‘Dreadful, dreadful,’ said Ernie, shaking his head pompously. ‘Well, I’m off to bed. Night, all.’
People around them were drifting away, still talking excitedly about what they had just seen.
‘At least they didn’t get to take Hagrid off to Azkaban,’ said Ron. ‘I ’spect he’s gone to join Dumbledore, hasn’t he?’
‘I suppose so,’ said Hermione, who looked tearful. ‘Oh, this is awful, I really thought Dumbledore would be back before long, but now we’ve lost Hagrid too.’
They traipsed back to the Gryffindor common room to find it full. The commotion out in the grounds had woken several people, who had hastened to rouse their friends. Seamus and Dean, who had arrived ahead of Harry, Ron and Hermione, were now telling everyone what they had seen and heard from the top of the Astronomy Tower.
‘But why sack Hagrid now?’ asked Angelina Johnson, shaking her head. ‘It’s not like Trelawney; he’s been teaching much better than usual this year!’
‘Umbridge hates part-humans,’ said Hermione bitterly, flopping down into an armchair. ‘She was always going to try and get Hagrid out.’
‘And she thought Hagrid was putting Nifflers in her office,’ piped up Katie Bell.
‘Oh, blimey,’ said Lee Jordan, covering his mouth. ‘It’s me who’s been putting the Nifflers in her office. Fred and George left me a couple; I’ve been levitating them in through her window.’
‘She’d have sacked him anyway,’ said Dean. ‘He was too close to Dumbledore.’
‘That’s true,’ said Harry, sinking into an armchair beside Hermione’s.
‘I just hope Professor McGonagall’s all right,’ said Lavender tearfully.
‘They carried her back up to the castle, we watched through the dormitory window,’ said Colin Creevey. ‘She didn’t look very well.’
‘Madam Pomfrey will sort her out,’ said Alicia Spinnet firmly. ‘She’s never failed yet.’
It was nearly four in the morning before the common room cleared. Harry felt wide awake; the image of Hagrid sprinting away into the dark was haunting him; he was so angry with Umbridge he could not think of a punishment bad enough for her, though Ron’s suggestion of having her fed to a box of starving Blast-Ended Skrewts had its merits. He fell asleep contemplating hideous revenges and arose from bed three hours later feeling distinctly unrested.
Their final exam, History of Magic, was not to take place until that afternoon. Harry would very much have liked to go back to bed after breakfast, but he had been counting on the morning for a spot of last-minute revision, so instead he sat with his head in his hands by the common-room window, trying hard not to doze off as he read through some of the three-and-a-half-feet-high stack of notes that Hermione had lent him.
The fifth-years entered the Great Hall at two o’clock and took their places in front of their face-down examination papers. Harry felt exhausted. He just wanted this to be over, so that he could go and sleep; then tomorrow, he and Ron were going to go down to the Quid
ditch pitch – he was going to have a fly on Ron’s broom – and savour their freedom from revision.
‘Turn over your papers,’ said Professor Marchbanks from the front of the Hall, flicking over the giant hour-glass. ‘You may begin.’
Harry stared fixedly at the first question. It was several seconds before it occurred to him that he had not taken in a word of it; there was a wasp buzzing distractingly against one of the high windows. Slowly, tortuously, he at last began to write an answer.
He was finding it very difficult to remember names and kept confusing dates. He simply skipped question four (In your opinion, did wand legislation contribute to, or lead to better control of, goblin riots of the eighteenth century?), thinking that he would go back to it if he had time at the end. He had a stab at question five (How was the Statute of Secrecy breached in 1749 and what measures were introduced to prevent a recurrence?) but had a nagging suspicion that he had missed several important points; he had a feeling vampires had come into the story somewhere.
He looked ahead for a question he could definitely answer and his eyes alighted upon number ten: Describe the circumstances that led to the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards and explain why the warlocks of Liechtenstein refused to join.
I know this, Harry thought, though his brain felt torpid and slack. He could visualise a heading, in Hermione’s handwriting: The formation of the International Confederation of Wizards … he had read those notes only this morning.
He began to write, looking up now and again to check the large hour-glass on the desk beside Professor Marchbanks. He was sitting right behind Parvati Patil, whose long dark hair fell below the back of her chair. Once or twice he found himself staring at the tiny golden lights that glistened in it when she moved her head slightly, and had to give his own head a little shake to clear it.
… the first Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards was Pierre Bonaccord, but his appointment was contested by the wizarding community of Liechtenstein, because –
All around Harry quills were scratching on parchment like scurrying, burrowing rats. The sun was very hot on the back of his head. What was it that Bonaccord had done to offend the wizards of Liechtenstein? Harry had a feeling it had something to do with trolls … he gazed blankly at the back of Parvati’s head again. If he could only perform Legilimency and open a window in the back of her head and see what it was about trolls that had caused the breach between Pierre Bonaccord and Liechtenstein …
Harry closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands, so that the glowing red of his eyelids grew dark and cool. Bonaccord had wanted to stop troll-hunting and give the trolls rights … but Liechtenstein was having problems with a tribe of particularly vicious mountain trolls … that was it.
He opened his eyes; they stung and watered at the sight of the blazing white parchment. Slowly, he wrote two lines about the trolls, then read through what he had done so far. It did not seem very informative or detailed, yet he was sure Hermione’s notes on the Confederation had gone on for pages and pages.
He closed his eyes again, trying to see them, trying to remember … the Confederation had met for the first time in France, yes, he had written that already …
Goblins had tried to attend and been ousted … he had written that, too …
And nobody from Liechtenstein had wanted to come …
Think, he told himself, his face in his hands, while all around him quills scratched out never-ending answers and the sand trickled through the hour-glass at the front …
He was walking along the cool, dark corridor to the Department of Mysteries again, walking with a firm and purposeful tread, breaking occasionally into a run, determined to reach his destination at last … the black door swung open for him as usual, and here he was in the circular room with its many doors …
Straight across the stone floor and through the second door … patches of dancing light on the walls and floor and that odd mechanical clicking, but no time to explore, he must hurry …
He jogged the last few feet to the third door, which swung open just like the others …
Once again he was in the cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres … his heart was beating very fast now … he was going to get there this time … when he reached number ninety-seven he turned left and hurried along the aisle between two rows …
But there was a shape on the floor at the very end, a black shape moving on the floor like a wounded animal … Harry’s stomach contracted with fear … with excitement …
A voice issued from his own mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any human kindness …
‘Take it for me … lift it down, now … I cannot touch it … but you can …’
The black shape on the floor shifted a little. Harry saw a long-fingered white hand clutching a wand rise at the end of his own arm … heard the high, cold voice say ‘Crucio!’
The man on the floor let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand but fell back, writhing. Harry was laughing. He raised his wand, the curse lifted and the figure groaned and became motionless.
‘Lord Voldemort is waiting …’
Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was bloodstained and gaunt, twisted in pain yet rigid with defiance …
‘You’ll have to kill me,’ whispered Sirius.
‘Undoubtedly I shall in the end,’ said the cold voice. ‘But you will fetch it for me first, Black … you think you have felt pain thus far? Think again … we have hours ahead of us and nobody to hear you scream …’
But somebody screamed as Voldemort lowered his wand again; somebody yelled and fell sideways off a hot desk on to the cold stone floor; Harry awoke as he hit the ground, still yelling, his scar on fire, as the Great Hall erupted all around him.
— CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO —
Out of the Fire
‘I’m not going … I don’t need the hospital wing … I don’t want …’
He was gibbering as he tried to pull away from Professor Tofty, who was looking at Harry with much concern after helping him out into the Entrance Hall with the students all around them staring.
‘I’m – I’m fine, sir,’ Harry stammered, wiping the sweat from his face. ‘Really … I just fell asleep … had a nightmare …’
‘Pressure of examinations!’ said the old wizard sympathetically, patting Harry shakily on the shoulder. ‘It happens, young man, it happens! Now, a cooling drink of water, and perhaps you will be ready to return to the Great Hall? The examination is nearly over, but you may be able to round off your last answer nicely?’
‘Yes,’ said Harry wildly. ‘I mean … no … I’ve done – done as much as I can, I think …’
‘Very well, very well,’ said the old wizard gently. ‘I shall go and collect your examination paper and I suggest that you go and have a nice lie down.’
‘I’ll do that,’ said Harry, nodding vigorously. ‘Thanks very much.’
The second that the old man’s heels disappeared over the threshold into the Great Hall, Harry ran up the marble staircase, hurtled along the corridors so fast the portraits he passed muttered reproaches, up more flights of stairs, and finally burst like a hurricane through the double doors of the hospital wing, causing Madam Pomfrey – who had been spooning some bright blue liquid into Montague’s open mouth – to shriek in alarm.
‘Potter, what do you think you’re doing?’
‘I need to see Professor McGonagall,’ gasped Harry, the breath tearing his lungs. ‘Now … it’s urgent!’
‘She’s not here, Potter,’ said Madam Pomfrey sadly. ‘She was transferred to St Mungo’s this morning. Four Stunning Spells straight to the chest at her age? It’s a wonder they didn’t kill her.’
‘She’s … gone?’ said Harry, shocked.
The bell rang just outside the dormitory and he heard the usual distant rumbling of students starting to flood out into the corridors above
and below him. He remained quite still, looking at Madam Pomfrey. Terror was rising inside him.
There was nobody left to tell. Dumbledore had gone, Hagrid had gone, but he had always expected Professor McGonagall to be there, irascible and inflexible, perhaps, but always dependably, solidly present …
‘I don’t wonder you’re shocked, Potter,’ said Madam Pomfrey, with a kind of fierce approval in her face. ‘As if one of them could have Stunned Minerva McGonagall face-on by daylight! Cowardice, that’s what it was … despicable cowardice … if I wasn’t worried what would happen to you students without me, I’d resign in protest.’
‘Yes,’ said Harry blankly.
He strode blindly from the hospital wing into the teeming corridor where he stood, buffeted by the crowd, panic expanding inside him like poison gas so that his head swam and he could not think what to do …
Ron and Hermione, said a voice in his head.
He was running again, pushing students out of the way, oblivious to their angry protests. He sprinted back down two floors and was at the top of the marble staircase when he saw them hurrying towards him.
‘Harry!’ said Hermione at once, looking very frightened. ‘What happened? Are you all right? Are you ill?’
‘Where have you been?’ demanded Ron.
‘Come with me,’ Harry said quickly. ‘Come on, I’ve got to tell you something.’
He led them along the first-floor corridor, peering through doorways, and at last found an empty classroom into which he dived, closing the door behind Ron and Hermione the moment they were inside, and leaned against it, facing them.
‘Voldemort’s got Sirius.’
‘What?’
‘How d’you –?’
‘Saw it. Just now. When I fell asleep in the exam.’
‘But – but where? How?’ said Hermione, whose face was white.
‘I dunno how,’ said Harry. ‘But I know exactly where. There’s a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass balls and they’re at the end of row ninety-seven … he’s trying to use Sirius to get whatever it is he wants from in there … he’s torturing him … says he’ll end by killing him!’
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