The Muggle and The Centaur 2

by Storyseeker

Rebecca thought that she was finally free of the Forbidden Forest and the Centaurs. She was wrong! Also, whatever happened to Dolores Umbridge? (A direct sequel to my first HP fic. Story is mostly safe, except for near the end. (Warning; final chapters and epilogue will contain harsh scenes.))

10. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Neither Harry Potter nor any of the characters associated with him belong to me. They are JK Rowlings. I'm not in this for the money, just for fun!

0000000000

Unknown Location;

3 Weeks Later:

In the weeks that followed, Rebecca was moved to three different safe-houses, all in carefully chosen locations. Harry had told her it was safer this way, as they didn't want to risk the Centaurs finding her, especially since they now knew they must have help from somewhere in the Ministry.

Abraham Bollard, Meredith Pan and Imogen Griffin were still under close observation by the Aurors, but so far they had done nothing to suggest that they were the ones working with Magorian and his herd. They were, however, still the likeliest suspects, as they had been the only ones, other than Harry and his closest friends, who knew about Rebecca hiding out at the Burrow. But without proof, all Harry and his lot could do was keep a vigilant eye on them.

Firenze had, of course, rejoined her at the first safe-house, and had stayed with her ever since. To Rebecca, this was both a blessing and a curse. For although she did welcome his presence, as it was a great comfort to her, it was also a constant bane. She had been trying to tell him something for all these weeks, and yet was no closer (not that she had had much time with him, in all fairness).

Since it had been revealed that someone was working with the Centaurs, Firenze had made it his life's duty to be her sole protector. He was almost constantly on guard, watching out the windows, patrolling the grounds of wherever they were, and had even tried reading the stars to see if they could tell him anything new. Alas, the stars were as silent as…stars. They revealed only what the herd had said in the beginning; two possible futures, one where Rebecca was free to live her own life in the human world, while in the other she remained with the Centaurs to serve them as their Breeder.

The few and rare moments they had together, Firenze would often put his hand over hers, to give comfort. She had welcomed it once, but now it made her uncomfortable. She knew Firenze had feelings for her, as his kiss had declared that, but so far he had not made any other attempts to do so again. In a way, she was glad the Centaurs had attacked, for it was because of that that Firenze rarely had time with her now.

Harry Potter sent a number of Aurors, at least those who were free anyway, and a various witches and wizards to help safeguard her. Harry ensured her that they were people who he only trusted inexplicably, and who he had tested with Hermione's Polyjuice-testing Potion first.

As for her friends and family, they were all under the delusion that she was travelling somewhere around Scotland, made believable thanks to the oblivating memory spells. Rebecca had to admit they made life easier, but she still found it disconcerting that someone could trifle with a person's personal memories so.

Rebecca wrote her next letter to her parents, frowning as she thought about what to write. So far she had sent them three letters, but in all honesty she wouldn't have really sent them any at all. She didn't want them to worry, but in all her letters, all she had written were lies. After all, she couldn't very well tell them the truth about where she was, and what was happening. So she had been fabricating some stories, telling them about the odd land sight she had been to, which she had read about in a guidebook, and the occasional new person she met, based on Harry or one of the others, but even then she had to rewrite their characters a lot.

'If nothing else, I might have a career as a writer someday,' she thought bemusedly. 'All this fabricating is giving me great exercise for my imagination.'

At that moment, a knock on the door sounded, jolting her from her musings.

"Yes?" she called.

The door opened, and in walked one of the Aurors, a middle-aged man called Nicolas Grimm. He was a man who definitely lived up to his name, as he was without a doubt one of the grimmest men she had ever met (and she had been to Parliament once).

He was a tall man, bald, pale skin, but well built. He was one of the regular Aurors that came to keep guard over her. Harry assured her that he was one of their best, and could be well trusted. He rarely smiled, though, and had a sour expression that seemed permanently attached to his face.

Rebecca wondered if he was related to Meredith in any way.

"Mr. Potter is outside in the garden," he said. "He wants to talk to you."

"Thank you," she replied, and got up to follow him downstairs. The house they were currently in was a middle-class house with three small bedrooms, but with a very large back garden. They had chosen this house for that specific reason, as it would be more comfortable for Firenze, who preferred to sleep outside.

When they first moved in, she just assumed the house was one of many safe-houses that the Ministry of Magic owned, but as it turned out it actually belonged to a couple of muggles who apparently were away on holiday. The Aurors, including Harry, had learned the house was unoccupied, so they decided to use it temporary until a more permanent home could be found. They had promised her that the house would be returned to its original condition the moment they left it, thanks to their magic, so the muggles would never know they were there, but that didn't do much to ease Rebecca's conscience. She felt so guilty moving about another person's house, sleeping in their beds…etc.

She briefly wondered what it could be like if someone did the same to her house in Italy, and she shuddered.

She made her way out, into the garden, and found Harry standing on the patio with Ron and Firenze. Aside from them, and Hermione, she hadn't had many regular visitors, and the Aurors who did come rarely talked, preferring to concentrate on their work.

"Hello, Harry, Ron," she greeted them both politely, and gave Firenze a nod. He smiled warmly back at her.

"Rebecca," said Harry firmly. "We need to talk."

"Oh no," she said, feeling scared, as she recognised that tone of his all too well by now. "What's happened now?"

"Nothing bad," said Ron hurriedly. "Well, maybe not anyway. But it does mean you're going to have to be extra careful from now on."

"Huh?"

"There's been a sighting," explained Harry. "We have reason to believe that Umbridge has finally surfaced, which means she's definitely involved in al this."

She raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. There hadn't been any news of the renegade witch since Harry and his friends had learned of her possible escape from that prison Azkaban in weeks. They hadn't even known for certain whether she was involved or not.

"How can you be sure it's her?" she asked.

"We've questioned witnesses, and from the description they gave, it definitely sounds like her." Harry gave a sheepish smile. "Umbridge had a…fairly well known description."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, like a toad. Fat and squat she was, with a mouth as big as one. Every time you looked at her, you'd almost expect her to start shooting her tongue out at the nearest fly."

"Where was she seen?"

"Around the city centre, near Trafalgar Square."

She frowned. "Why would she suddenly start showing herself after so long, and in such a popular place, too? She must have known someone would spot her there."

"We know," said Harry, frowning also. "That's what's got us worried." He went to sit down on one of the garden furniture chairs. "It's possible this may all be a trap."

"A trap?!"

He nodded. "Maybe all our extra precautions have done just what we hoped, by keeping you nice and hidden completely, so that not even Umbridge can get to you. Because of this, she's been left with little choice but to try a new strategy."

"In other words, bait," added Ron. "She knows we'll come after her the moment she sticks her fat neck out, and she's probably hoping that when we do, she'll be able to catch us and find out where you're hiding."

"And the problem is, that's just what we have to do," said Harry.

She stared at him aghast. "You can't be serious?!"

He looked at her with a tired look. "We can't afford to pass up this opportunity, Rebecca. We need something, anything, to make up for these long weeks!"

She noticed for the first time how tired and worn he really looked at that moment. He looked as though he hadn't slept in weeks, his hair shaggy, his eyes half-closed with bags under them, and even his clothes looked as though they hadn't been washed or pressed in a while. Ron didn't look all that much better either.

"Another hard night on the town?" she guessed.

After that young witch Imogen had cast that exploding spell on the Centaurs, back at the Burrow, everything had happened just as Harry had foretold. The Centaurs had indeed taken that spell on their kind as an act of war. They had almost started attacking humans immediately, even mere muggles, out on the streets in retaliation.

When the Minister for the Ministry of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had learned what had happened, he had called Harry, and Apparated them both straight to the Centaur leader without delay. He had practically begged and pleaded with Magorian to refrain from striking out at them, as Imogen was a young and inexperienced witch, and couldn't be held completely at fault. Kingsley and Harry had both claimed full responsibility for her actions, since Kingsley was the Minister, and Harry was the one who had sent her in the first place.

It had taken every form of persuasive argument and diplomacy they could think of, and in the end, it was only because of their past together at the battle of Hogwarts, and the Centaur's own personal past with Harry, that they were able to halt a full out declaration of war against the Ministry. Despite everything, they still respected The-Boy-Who-Lived, but even that was not enough to stall them forever. They said they could forgive the young witch for her youth, but that was all. Nothing else had changed.

The Centaurs knew they were hiding Rebecca, and were still intent that one day she would be theirs. They knew the Ministry would not divulge her location to them, but that mattered not, as in their minds they would find her eventually. But if any of the sorcerers ever dare raise their wands against them again, there would be no more negotiations, no more talk…and no more mercy.

They couldn't have made it any plainer that the time to talk was long since over.

So far, the Ministry had been lucky. Aside from oblivating any muggles who had seen the Centaurs, none of the Aurors had run into any of them, so the threat was contained momentarily. But Centaur sightings had become so common now that the Aurors were on daily reconnaissance. Any time they spent away from their patrols around the city, and now Devon where the Burrow was, they ran the risk of a muggle spotting a Centaur and leaving with their memories intact. There had already been at least seven muggles who had escaped oblivation, but fortunately they had not divulged any word to the public.

"Another three Centaur sightings," moaned Ron. "One muggle had one of those gun things that shoot moving pictures."

"Video camera, Ron," said Harry, smiling slightly.

"Yeah, that. We were lucky to get him and wipe the camera."

She looked at them both in pity. "You really need to get some sleep, you two."

Ron snorted. "Be nice to get a chance."

"But you understand now why we have to give this a chance," explained Harry. "If we catch Umbridge, then maybe we…"

"Maybe what, Harry?" she said softly. "Even if you do get her, what good will that do? The Centaurs have made clear that they want me, nothing else. Getting Umbridge won't change that."

"I know, but perhaps with her we might be able to start negotiations again. If we reveal to them that Umbridge was just using them, getting them to start a war that would cost us both, then maybe they might consider stopping this whole thing out of pride, because of her using them."

"That…wouldn't be consistent with what I remember about them, Harry," she noted shortly. "Although Centaurs are a proud race, to be sure; once they set their minds to something, they never give up, even if it was at another's bidding."

Harry gave a hopeless shrug. "It's all we've got to work with, Rebecca."

She sighed. "Then I guess all I can do is wish you luck then. I assume you're going to start looking for her around Trafalgar?"

"Best place to start."

"Good luck then. Just promise me one thing, will you?"

"What?"

"Be careful!"

The two of them had grinned, saying, "We always are", making her smile, and then left.

After they had gone, Rebecca sat outside for a while, idly watching the various flowers swaying to and fro in the wind. She should have brought her sketchpad down with her, to do some drawing. Although she didn't really draw flowers much, unless they were part of her actual picture, she had to admit that the garden was a glorious sight.

As she looked up, her smile turned down a little when she noticed Firenze trotting towards her. He had no smile either, but then he rarely did when he was on watch duty, as he always took his duties seriously.

She reached down and plucked a small daisy from the ground, smelling its fresh scent, looking for any excuse to look away from the approaching Centaur. She just needed a moment to gather her thoughts.

'Now's the time,' she thought, angry with herself for letting this whole thing go on for so long. 'I must talk with him today, and get this whole thing straightened out once and for all. A day is fine, a week understandable, but over three weeks?! That's bloody ridiculous.'

She forced a smile on her face, as he came over. "Good morning, Firenze. How are you?"

He offered her a small smile in return. "Good morning, my Rebecca. I trust this new day is welcome to you."

"Yes, it's beautiful." It was a bright sunny day, which lit up all the colours of the garden's flowers, and even made the slightly overgrown lawn look like one large emerald jewel, shining brightly. "May we talk?"

"I'm afraid not," he replied quickly, making her lose her smile just as fast. "I need to speak with Nicolas Grimm about tonight's guard duty. I shall speak with you later if I can."

And with that he trotted off, before she could even speak, leaving her in his wake, and her fuming.

'Why is it,' she growled mentally, 'whenever I didn't want to see him, he was always close by, and now when I do, he's always busy?!'

0000000000

3 Days Later; Ministry of Magic:

After three days of investigation, research, checking out every lead, interviewing witnesses, and walking all the streets near Trafalgar Square, Harry felt ready to scream.

It seemed that right after they had got their one break, with the possible sighting of Dolores Umbridge, the trail had immediately gone cold. No sign of her had been spotted in all the time since, and now Harry was back where he started, which was definitely no good news for the Ministry or the rest of the wizarding community.

The Centaurs were getting even angrier, if that was possible, and were letting the whole of Britain know it. One of them had kicked down a lamppost the other day, after following who he had first thought to be Rebecca, but who turned out to merely bear a close resemblance to her. Some of the muggles nearby had tried to calm him down by throwing a rope around him, while they had been under the perception filter spell, thinking he was nothing but a mere horse, only to get a shock when they approached him, and the spell broke.

One of the most important rules in dealing with Centaurs, is never, ever, under any circumstances, treat any of them like a horse!

The Centaur had gone berserk, kicking out with his legs, and hitting two muggles with his rock-hard hooves. One of them was in hospital with cracked ribs and a concussion, while the other one had been more fortunate, narrowly missing the Centaur's hooves, sustaining only a bump on the head and a bruised bum from falling over.

Although Harry felt for the poor men, he was glad for their injuries. Not only were they not life threatening, but the knocks on their heads made it possible to pass off the story that they had suffered some kind of delirium, so there had been no need to modify their memories. The rest of the muggles, who had ran off when the Centaur had first started going into a frenzy, had not seen his true colours, so there was no need to go after them either.

They were lucky…again. But every day the situation was getting worse, and Harry knew it was only a matter of time. This war, like the one with Voldemort, was now inevitable, unless a miracle happened.

'I wonder if there's a spell that can create clones of a person?' he thought. 'Maybe then we could give them one of Rebecca without them realising it.'

"Harry!" Ron's voice yelled through the door of his office before his friend even got through it. His face looked flushed with red, panting as though he had run all the way there from Hogwarts.

"Ron? What's…?"

"We got a lead!" was all he said, and that was all that Harry needed to hear.

He instantly stood up, his wand ready in his hand. "Talk to me."

"There's been another sighting of Umbridge. She's still in the muggle region of London, an old vacant shop somewhere near Trafalgar."

Harry nodded, and came round his desk. "Then let's go check it out."

Ron looked at his friend, a little concerned. "Wait a minute, Harry. Don't you think…"

"Ron, this is the first breakthrough we've had in days. If we leave it too long, she may get away again."

"I'm not denying that, pal, but listen. Remember what we discussed, about how odd it was that Umbridge had started showing herself in public?"

Harry sighed, and nodded. "Yeah, I know. Bait for a possible trap, I get it. But really, what else can we do?"

"We play it smart is what we do," replied Ron, and he honestly couldn't believe he was the one playing the smart one here, and without Hermione no less. "I've already asked for all the available Aurors we can get to accompany us. If Umbridge is planning a surprise attack on us, we'll give her a run for her money."

Harry smiled, but then frowned. "Alright, but I take the lead, okay?"

Ron looked at him sadly, and couldn't help but notice the way he kept scratching at the white-lettered scar on his right hand, the one that Umbridge herself had given him, and had never gone away.

"Mate, perhaps it would be best if…"

"I go in first or none at all!" said Harry adamantly.

Ron sighed. "Mate, I understand this might be a bit hard for you an all, but…"

"Hard for me?" Harry looked at him, confused for a moment, but then widened his eyes and shook his head. "I'm not doing this for revenge, if that's what you're thinking."

"Then why?"

"In case you've forgotten, we're on the brink of another war, Ron. One that Umbridge has caused this time. Unless we find a way to stop it, and offer the Centaurs some form of compensation…"

"Compensation?!" Ron looked at him in alarm. "You're not thinking of giving them Umbridge instead of Rebecca, are you?" Yes, Umbridge was a monster in his book, but the thought of willingly handing anyone over to the Centaurs, knowing what their fate might be, sounded like something the Death Eaters would have no conscience with doing.

Harry sighed. "Of course not. Sorry, that came out wrong. What I meant was, I just wanna show them how she has duped them, and then maybe they might not go ahead with this war. You remember how proud they all are. If they find out they were tricked into starting this war, they might be angry enough at Umbridge to forget about going after Rebecca."

"I know, Harry. I was there when you told Rebecca your plan, and frankly I agree with what she said. I've only known Firenze, but from what I do know about Centaurs, they're not the kind of people who'd take any kind of compensation. They want something, they get it. And Rebecca spent how long with them, so she'd know better than any of us."

Harry frowned. "We need to do something, Ron," he said, breathing heavily. "Don't forget how bad it's getting out there."

"I'm not forgetting! Don't you forget who pulled 16 hours straight yesterday, mate."

He gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

Ron looked hard at him. "Come on, pal, what's the story?"

"There is none. I told you why. War's on the horizon, and we need a possible means to an end for it. Umbridge is maybe our best bet."

"No, it's not just that. I've seen the way you look every time you mention that toad-woman's name. Not much different from the way we all look, I grant you, but on you…it's somewhat alien." He stared right into his eyes. "Is this about what she did to you? The, err…" He gave a short look to Harry's right hand, which he instinctly clenched.

"No!" said Harry, a little forcefully. "I came to terms with that ages ago. Besides, with all the other scars I've gotten since then, I tend not to think about it all that much."

"Then what?"

He watched as Harry chewed on his lower lip, until finally he sighed and looked back at him.

"We were the ones who put her away, Ron. We had her arrested, we spoke at her trial, and got her sent down for life at Azkaban. That was…that should have been the end of it. And now here we are, nearly a year later, with her having been out for months, us not knowing about it, and a war about to start directly because of her."

"We're not to blame for any of this, Harry," said Ron in disbelief. "Like you said, we got her arrested, but it was the Ministry who sentenced her and everything. They were the ones responsible for her imprisonment. It's not our fault she managed to elude them."

"We still should have done something!" Harry snapped. "We should have checked to make sure there was no way out for her. We should have checked who was working at Azkaban. We should have…we should have…just done something." He ended the last part of his sentence a little pathetically, which he seemed to realise, and looked down at his feet.

Ron walked over, grasping his shoulder in a brotherly manner. "We are not to blame for any of this, Harry," he repeated. "Umbridge wasn't the only one we sent down, remember? It's not like we can keep eyes on all the criminals now, can we?"

Harry said nothing for a while, and just continued looking down at his feet, fuming slightly. "I still should have done something."

"We are doing something now. Just take care not to do too much," he added wisely. "It's alright to accept a little help every now and then. Look how well it worked out when we were hunting the Horcruxes."

Harry did smile then, and had to admit that he did have a point. He would never have found any of Voldemort's dark items without his friend's help.

"Alright," he finally admitted. "But I still insist on being the one to lead." At Ron's look, he quickly added, "I just don't want to risk anyone getting hurt, Ron. And don't worry, I'll be careful. After all, you'll be there to make sure I do."

Ron grinned. "Damn right I will."

"Okay, so…where's Umbridge's new home address?"

0000000000

Cecil Court; 1030PM:

It was half past ten, and Harry, Ron and a select group of three other Aurors were making their way across Cecil Court, near Trafalgar Square, to a vacant shop that had once sold rare and second-hand books. It had closed down during the war.

The owner had been a muggle, but had been one of those rare few who could at least sense that something was not right. Although he had known nothing about the wizarding world, its people or Voldemort, he could feel that something dark was coming, and he had closed up shop and moved away to parts unknown. The shop was still in his name, possibly because he might intend to some day return, since the war was now long since over.

Harry had been amazed when he learned what the shop had been. He thought Umbridge would at least try to get herself into a trendy and expensive hotel; one that was equipped to provide her with all the needless indulges she was used to. The thought of her staying in a vacant, old bookstore was almost laughable.

He and the other wizards had to use various magics to keep themselves concealed, as even at night the area was almost always populated. Tourists and locals, having a night out on the town, were almost constantly passing through there.

Harry almost wished he had brought his Invisibility Cloak with him. Not that he had any fear of muggles seeing them, as the average spell of concealment was more than enough to dull their senses. The fact, however, that Umbridge had been showing herself off in public proved that either she had lost whatever rational thought she had had left, or that she was planning something.

He was sure that, as far as magic went, he could handle himself against whatever Umbridge threw his way. She wasn't the greatest of witches, having proven that during her time as Hogwart's DADA teacher. He had thought at the time that she hadn't wanted to teach them practical spells because of her over-cautiousness, and that she'd been worried they were planning to raise an army for Dumbledore (which they hadn't until she came along), but now he realised that the other reason may have been simply because she couldn't. Aside from typical and all-around common offensive and defensive spells, mostly those of a darker variety, she had possessed no real magical talent.

Of course, that didn't mean she couldn't get him with a surprise attack. She had done that to Magorian when she had used the rope conjuring spell on him. The Centaur leader had been so riled up by her calling him and his herd half-breeds and such, she had taken him completely by surprise. Harry had to make sure she couldn't pull the same trick twice.

"Ron?" he whispered to his friend. "You getting anything?"

Ron held out his wand, as though waving for something, muttering some words beneath his breath. After a few moments, he shook his head. "Can't tell," he replied. "Either nothing's there, or something has been put up to stop us from finding anything."

Harry swore. "Alright, put up some barriers. I don't wanna risk anything of this coming out on the Breakfast News tomorrow."

Ron wasted no time. "Repello Muggletum!" he recited, followed by the other Aurors following his example, casting the Muggle-Repelling Charm around the shop.

The moment it was cast, Harry led the way inside. "Alohomora," he said, pointing at the door with his wand, unlocking it instantly. Although he knew Umbridge was no great witch, he had expected the shop door to have at least some kind of curse upon it, to prevent intruders, or at least warn her of them. But so far, there was nothing to indicate a magical presense.

"Maybe she left?" one of the Aurors behind him suggested. "That would explain why she wasn't picky about showing herself in public. Because she was planning on leaving the country, or going to another hideout."

He frowned, but had to admit the wizard had a point.

"Maybe," he replied quietly, "but don't let your guard down until we know for definite."

They went all around the ground floor of the shop, but to no avail. All the shop was bare, as all it's merchandise had long since been removed, leaving behind empty stacks of shelves, and a few old signs saying 'End Of Clearance Sale'.

"Anything?" he said, but merely received a chorus of no's from his team.

"There's a door at the back here, sir," one of them called out quietly from across the room. "There's some stairs leading up. Shall I go?"

"Wait for us." Harry looked to the others. "Ron, you're with me. The rest of you stay here to keep guard. Wait till we return."

As they acknowledged him with a nod, he and Ron moved forward to join the other Auror at the back of the shop, waiting by a door hidden within the shadows. It had on it a Combination Muggle Lock, which had already been picked, and now stood open, revealing a flight of stairs leading up.

"Follow me," said Harry, and slowly began heading up, his wand at the stand by.

As his feet climbed each step, his teeth felt like they were chewing on tin foil with every loud creak of the stairs, which sounded louder than anything The Shrieking Shack had ever produced. He almost considered casting a Silencing Charm.

They eventually came to the top of the stairs, and took in their surroundings, seeing they were in what must have been an old office or storage room at one time. The floor was covered with a thick layer of dust, with the marks of old bits of furniture that had once sat on it, now since been removed, like a desk, some more shelves, and several discarded books. Then there were also the footprints…

Harry noticed these immediately; several of them that led to a single door at the end of the room. He signalled the others to follow, and tiptoed across.

Unsurprisingly, the floorboards gave off as many creaks as the stairs had done. He wondered whether this was why Umbridge had chosen this particular place as a hideout, since the loud creaks could give warning of an intruder, or if it had just been a lucky bonus.

The room had in it a single large window, which looked out onto the court outside, but which none of them had noticed before now. Most likely it had on it a spell that had prevented any of the light from within the room escaping outside, like a one-way mirror, similar to the Muggle-Repelling Charm.

He finally reached the door, but still heard no sounds from within. He waited one moment, and then signalled the others to get ready, and held his wand forward.

Slowly, he turned the knob, and inched the door open.

"Confringo."

Harry had less than a second, when he heard the word spoken in the other room, to react. Several things went through his mind when he heard it. First, he recognised Umbridge's voice anywhere. Second, he also recognised the word as the spell for the Blasting Curse, which caused targets to explode, like a bomb. Third…

[BOOM!]

Well, there would be plenty of time later to review what the third thing was.

Harry jumped to the side, waving his wand like a sharp whip, which caused Ron and the third Auror to swerve to the left of the room, landing with a thump against the wall. As they fell, the door was blasted off its hinges by a terrifying explosion, its sound echoing beyond the strain of their ears. If it were not for the Repelling Charm, the noise would have been heard all the way across the River Thames.

The sound had deafened Harry, filling his ears with nothing but white noise, as he valiantly struggled to his feet. He looked over, and saw to his relief that the others were alive and seemingly unhurt, save for their ears, like him, as they slowly stood up, and shook and tapped the sides of their heads in a vain effort to clear them.

The door lay discarded on the floor, and the frame from which it had been blasted from was now several inches wider, due to the blast. Large clouds of smoke floated out of the room, together with the sound of a roaring fire.

"Exstinguo!" recited Harry, as he pointed his wand through the doorway. Immediately, the fire within started to shrink and subside.

"Aqua Eructo!" called out Ron and the Auror, and jets of water sprung from the tips of their own wands, shooting forth into the room. The sound of hissing steam was heard from inside, as the water helped put out the fire.

Within a few moments, the fire was all gone, save for a few stray flames here and there, and the thick smoke that travelled in its wake.

"What the hell was that?!" the Auror said, coughing and waving his wand at the smoke. One of them had some skills in healing magic, and had already healed the other's ears.

"Blasting Curse," spluttered Harry, waving his own wand. "Someone's in there."

Ron grimaced. "If there was anyone in there, Harry, chances are they ain't now."

He paused for a moment, but then Harry continued with clearing the smoke out of the room, until finally it was safe to enter. When they did, the room was completely wasted, with charred remains of wooden furniture lying everywhere, burned ashes of paper floating around, and…

Harry stopped, and Ron hissed through his teeth in disgust, while the Auror just gasped in horror.

Lying in the centre of the room, charred and burned, were the skeletal remains of a former witch. There was no point in checking to see if they could help, as she was now beyond all hope.

"Is it…?" the Auror started to ask.

"Umbridge?" said Harry. "We can't know for certain, but I definitely heard her voice when she spoke the spell. Then again, it could have been someone who was in disguise."

A second later, the other Aurors came rushing up the stairs, their wands held out, and looking flustered.

"What happened?!" one of them asked urgently.

"Blasting Curse," repeated Harry. "We're not sure yet who by, as whoever it was is… Well, there's not a lot left to identify her with."

They looked past him into the room, and cringed at the sight of the charcoal skeleton.

"Call the Ministry," Harry then ordered. "Have them send their healers to examine the body. Tell them to use all spells to check every minor detail. I want it cross-examined right down to the cellular level if need be, but I must know for absolute certainty if this was Dolores Umbridge or not."

The Aurors nodded, and left the room, leaving Harry and Ron behind.

"You sure you heard Umbridge's voice?" asked Ron.

"Hers is one of the few voices I could never forget, Ron. But like I said, voices can be disguised just as easily as faces can be."

Ron frowned. "But if it was her, why on earth would she kill herself? She never struck me as the suicidal type before."

He shrugged. "Maybe it was an accident. We both know she was no expert when it came to magic, Ron. She might have intended to kill us with that spell, but misfired."

"I suppose, but… Hey, what's that?" He pointed across the burnt room, to the left side of the charred corpse.

When Harry turned to look, one thing immediately caught his eye. He hadn't noticed it before, what with all the smoke, but now it stood out as clear as day. The room was completely burned, what with charred wood and bones, so the one thing that stood out from anything else was an clean and un-burnt envelope, lying near the side of the room.

He carefully approached the paper, his wand out, and already reciting a spell that would detect any spells or curses around it, in case it had been booby-trapped for whenever someone touched it. After a couple of minutes, he looked back to his friend.

"It's been enchanted to resist corrosion, and repel things like dirt," he told him. "It could have been thrown into a dragon's fire, dipped into acid or thrown into Hagrid's compost heap, and it would still look as fresh as the day it had been printed."

Ron cocked an eyebrow. "Someone clearly wanted to leave us a message."

Harry nodded, and continued checking the envelope for any other charms, but so far found nothing. Aside from the anti-corrosion spell, it was just an ordinary piece of paper.

Once satisfied with its safety, he undid the envelope, and pulled out the paper inside. He was half-expecting it to be a Howler, like the one Ron had received during his second year at Hogwarts from his mother, but it turned out to be nothing more than an ordinary piece of writing paper.

He pulled it out, and started reading: -

To whom it may concern,

I know that many of you at the Ministry have long been wondering whether or not I have been the one behind the recent attacks made on a certain muggle girl by the name of Rebecca Leicester, so allow me to finally put your curiosity to rest.

Yes, it was indeed I who first informed those lowly creatures, the Centaurs, of the location of Miss Leicester, who told them where to find her, and again when she was hiding at the residence of one Arthur Weasley and his family. I even attempted to bring the girl to them myself when they proved too inept to perform so simple a task.

You are probably wondering why I did all this, why I would threaten the safety of a mere muggle, and incite war between the Centaurs and the Ministry, which I had dedicated my life to for so many years. The answer to that lies in the question itself.

I have always devoted myself to the pursuit of order, which was why I went to work for the Ministry straight after school, and where I had remained ever since. I gave each Minister my fullest, to ensure that order was maintained over the magical community and Great Britain. There were times when I had to do the unthinkable, but all that was necessary, for to do otherwise would have resulted in untold chaos across the country. I stood by what I said, and in return I was stripped of my position, my reputation, and then even my very freedom!

When I eventually escaped my lowly cell, I saw to my horror all that had occurred during my incarceration. I saw the once noble ideals of the Ministry fallen into ruins, with common muggle-borns, traitors and criminals taking up the positions normally reserved only for law biding and pure-blooded wizards and witches. Even the position of the Minister itself has been taken up by a former traitor to the Ministry! And the once frowned upon interaction between creatures such as the Centaurs and our children are now allowed by giving them teaching positions at our schools.

I see nothing left of the beloved country I swore to protect long ago, only chaos. And if people wish to live so, then so be it. Let chaos and disorder reign until your own houses fall upon your heads, whether it will be by war or your own foolishness!

I know I will be dead when you read this, as I never had any delusions of being able to escape detection by the Ministry for long. So I arranged to have those notice me among the muggle public, and in time follow me to this store where I have been hiding. I knew it would only be a matter of time before someone would come to find me, and when they did I would be sure to welcome him or her with my own death.

Let my passing serve as a reminder of the ideals we wizards and witches once prided ourselves on. Perhaps in the coming war, the war with the very creatures we allowed ourselves to join with, we will remember those ideals, of the old necessary laws to prevent interaction with such creatures; for to join with a weaker species is to allow ourselves the risk of growing weaker, and the likelier ease to be conquered.

Yours Sincerely,

Dolores Jane Umbridge

Former Senior Undersecretary to the Ministry of Magic

and Head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission

Harry read the letter several times, not quite believing all the racism and prejudice that was inside it. Even at the end, Umbridge still hadn't changed.

He handed the latter to Ron, who took his time reading it, too. When he was finished, he too looked at it with an air of disgust, and looked torn between folding the letter away, or incinerating it (which he would have done, too, if not for the protection spell on it).

"Gotta hand it to her," he muttered. "She never gave up on her principles, twisted as they were, even at the end."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "But the worst thing is, she won."

Ron looked up.

"Even if she was behind all that's happened," he explained, "it's not gonna make a blind bit of difference. The Centaurs want Rebecca, nothing else. Even if we could have convinced them they'd been tricked and used by Umbridge, they most likely would have wanted her for revenge. And even then, they'd probably still want Rebecca."

He groaned pitifully. "I knew it was a long-shot, hoping to get Umbridge, to use her as a way to get through to the Centaurs, but it was all we had. It was the last chance we had to make peace, without giving Rebecca up, and now… Now, Umbridge is dead. And with her, we've lost our one foothold."

Ron stared sheepishly down at the floor. "Buck up, mate. For all we know, it may not be Umbridge there," he said, pointing to the skeleton. "Like you said, it could be someone doped up with Polyjuice."

"Who willingly killed themselves for Umbridge?" said Harry, looking at him sceptically. "Who on earth would be willing to do that?"

"The Imperius Curse! Umbridge may have had someone under it, to do her bidding. I mean, come on. Remember, neither of us believed Umbridge was the type of woman to take her own life. The idea she would do all this, and then sacrifice herself, is a bit hard to swallow."

"Maybe, but then again, the last time we saw Umbridge was before she lost everything, and got sent to Azkaban. We agreed that out of everyone, she would be the one who would no doubt have found her imprisonment the hardest to deal with."

"Perhaps, but either way, let's not lose our heads until after the healers have done their work. Wait till they can confirm who this was, and then we'll see."

Harry wanted to say more, but finally he just nodded, and looked back to the smoulding skeleton. 'Just keep hoping,' he thought, remembering some of his own words from long ago. The only problem was, hope was now starting to look a lot frailer.

To Be Continued…