Wooden floor and walls. Now a gigantic statue of black stone dominated the scene. It was

Rather frightening, this vast sculpture of a witch and a wizard sitting on ornately carved

Thrones, looking down at the Ministry workers toppling out of fireplaces below them.

Engraved in foot-high letters at the base of the statue were the words MAGIC IS MIGHT.

Harry received a heavy blow on the back of the legs. Another wizard had just

Flown out of the fireplace behind him.

“Out of the way, can’t y – oh, sorry, Runcorn.”

Clearly frightened, the balding wizard hurried away. Apparently the man who

Harry was impersonating, Runcorn, was intimidating.

“Psst!” said a voice, and he looked around to see a whispy little witch and the

Ferrety wizard from Magical Maintenance gesturing to him from over beside the statue.

Harry hastened to join them.

“You got in all right, then?” Hermione whispered to Harry.

“No, he’s still stuck in the hog,” said Ron.

“Oh, very funny … It’s horrible, isn’t it?” she said to Harry, who was staring up

at the statue. “Have you seen what they’re sitting on?”

Harry looked more closely and realized that what he had thought were

decoratively carved thrones were actually mounds of carved humans: hundreds and

Hundreds of naked bodies, men, women, and children, all with rather stupid, ugly faces,

Twisted and pressed together to support the weight of the handsomely robed wizards.

“Muggles,” whispered Hermione, “In their rightful place. Come on, let’s get

going.”

They joined the stream of witches and wizards moving toward the golden gates at

The end of the hall, looking around as surreptitiously as possible, but there was no sign of

The distinctive figure of Dolores Umbridge. They passed through the gates and into a

Smaller hall, where queues were forming in front of twenty golden grilles housing as

many lifts. They had barely joined the nearest one when a voice said, “Cattermole!”

They looked around: Harry’s stomach turned over. One of the Death Eaters who

had witnessed Dumbledore’s death was striding toward them. The Ministry workers

Beside them fell silent, their eyes downcast; Harry could feel fear rippling through them.

The man’s scowling, slightly brutish face was somehow at odds with his magnificent,

Sweeping robes, which were embroidered with much gold thread. Someone in the crowd

around the lifts called sycophantically, “Morning, Yaxley!” Yaxley ignored them.

“I requested somebody from Magical Maintenance to sort out my office,

Cattermole. It’s still raining in there.”

Ron looked around as though hoping somebody else would intervene, but nobody

Spoke.

“Raining … in your office? That’s – that’s not good, is it?”

Ron gave a nervous laugh. Yaxley’s eyes widened.

“You think it’s funny, Cattermole, do you?”

A pair of witches broke away from the queue for the lift and bustled off.

“No,” said Ron, “no, of course –“

“You realize that I am on my way downstairs to interrogate your wife,

Cattermole? In fact, I’m quite surprised you’re not down there holding her hand while

she waits. Already given her up as a bad job, have you? Probably wise. Be sure and

marry a pureblood next time.”

Hermione had let out a little squeak of horror. Yaxley looked at her. She cough

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 788