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 cram 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 huddle, 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 blustered. “Would you like me to have your

family tree examined, like I had Dirk Cresswell’s?”

“Sorry!” gasped 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 Muggleborns,

Who scurried 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

Vomiting but pale and wan, had just come running out of a lift.

“R- Reg?”

She looked from her husband to Ron, who swore loudly.

The balding wizard gaped, 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 helping Muggle-borns escape, Yaxley!” Harry shouted.

The balding wizard’s colleagues set up and uproar, 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 spun for a few

seconds before shooting up out of a toilet into a cubicle. Harry flung open the door: Ron

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 601