The golden grilles slid apart again and Hermione gasped. Four people stood

before them, two of them deep in conversation: a long-haired wizard wearing magnificent

Robes of black and gold, and a squat, toadlike witch wearing a velvet bow in her short

Hair and clutching a clipboard to her chest.

The Muggle-Born Registration Commission

“Ah, Mafalda!” said Umbridge, looking at Hermione. “Travers sent you, did he?”

“Y-yes,” squeaked Hermione.

“God, you’ll do perfectly well.” Umbridge spoke 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 Ministry 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 Harry 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 velvet hair-bow level with her shoulder.

“What brings you here, Runcorn?” asked the new Minister of Magic. His long

Black hair and beard were streaked with silver and a great overhanging forehead

Shadowed his glinting eyes, putting Harry in the mind of a crab looking out from beneath

A rock.

“Needed a quick word with,” Harry hesitated for a fraction of a second, “Arthur

Weasley. Someone said he was up on level one.”

“Ah,” said Plum Thicknesse. “Has he been caught having contact with an

Undesirable?”

“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

traitors 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 tugged the Invisibility Cloak out

From under his heavy black cloak, threw it over himself, and set off along the corridor in

The opposite direction. Runcorn was so tall that Harry was forced to stoop to 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 plaque with the owner’s name and

Occupation upon it, the might of the Ministry, its complexity, its impenetrability, seemed

To force itself upon him so that the plan he had been carefully concocting with Ron and

Hermione over the past four weeks seemed laughably childish. They had concentrated 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 proceedings, which would undoubtedly last hours; Ron was struggling to do

magic that Harry was sure was beyond him, a woman’s liberty possibly depending on the

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 648