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 these 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: Madeline's stomach turned over. A death eater was striding toward them. The Ministry workers beside them fell silent, their eyes downcast; Madeline could feel fear rippling through them. The man's scowling, slightly brutish face was somehow at offs 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 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 these 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 coughed feebly and turned away.

"I—I—" stammered Ron.

"But if my wife were accused of being a mudblood," said Yaxley, "—not that any woman I married would ever be mistaken for such filth—and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement needed a job doing, I would make it my priority to do that job, Cattermole. Do you understand me?

"Yes," whispered Ron.

"Then attend to it, Cattermole, and if my office is not completely dry within an hour, your wife's Blood Status will be in even graver doubt that it is now."

The golden grille before them clattered open. With a nod and unpleasant smile to Harry, who was evidently expected to appreciate this treatment of Cattermole, Yaxley swept away toward another lift. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Madeline entered theirs, but nobody followed them: It was as if they were infectious. The grilles shut with a clang and the lift began to move upward.

"What am I going to do?" Ron asked the other two at once; he looked stricken. "If I don't turn up, my wife—I mean, Cattermole's wife—"

"We'll come with you, we should stick together—" began Harry, but Ron shook his head feverishly.

"That's mental, we haven't got much time. You two find Umbridge, I'll go and sort out Yaxley's office—but how do I stop it raining?"

"Try Finite Incantatem," said Hermione at once, "That should stop the rain if it's a hex or curse; if it doesn't, something's gone wrong with an Atmospheric Charm, which will be more difficult to fix so as an interim measure try Impervius to protect his belongings—"

"Say it again, slowly—" said Ron, searching his pockets desperately for a quill, but at that moment the lift juddered to a halt. A disembodied female voice said, "Level four, Department of Regulations and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being and Spirit Division, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau," and the grilles slid open once again, admitting a couple of wizards and several pale violet paper airplanes that fluttered around the lamp in the ceiling of the lift.

"Morning, Albert," said a bushy whiskered man, smiling at Harry. He glanced over at Ron and Hermione as the lift creaked upward once more; Hermione was now whispering frantic instructions to Ron but Madeline watched the new additions in the lift warily. Her back was as far against the wall as the physical mass would allow her. She stiffened when the man turned to Harry and began to speak, but after realizing it was meaningless jabber she relaxed a bit.

"Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Impropert Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services, "said the disembodied witch's voice.

Madeline saw Hermione give Ron a little push and her hurried out of the lift, followed by the other wizards, leaving Harry, Madeline, and Hermione alone. The moment the golden door had closed Hermione said, very fast, "Actually I think I better go with him, I don't think he knows what he's doing and if he gets caught the whole thing—"

"Level one, Minister of Magic and Support Stadd."

The golden grilles slid apart and Hermione gasped catching Madeline's attention. Four people stood before them, two of them in deep conversation: a long haired wizard and a toadlike witch wearing a velvet bow in her short hair and clutching a clipboard. Maddie felt Harry tense beside her…wait toadlike that must have been the witch Mundungus was talking about.

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

"Y-yes," squeaked Hermione.

"Good, 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 straight away." She consulted her clipboard. "Ten people today and one of them the wife on a Ministry employee! Tut, tut… even here, in the heart of the ministry!" She stepped into the lift beside Hermione. Madeline inwardly groaned this lady's voice was already beginning to annoy her and her hand slowly inched towards her wand in her pocket when suddenly her hand was grasped firmly. Her head shot up to meet Harry's disapproving eyes and even though they looked completely different she could practically see through his disguise and the glaring green orbs. She smiled sheepishly and look down at her feet but Harry had yet to release her hand instead he unsurely laced his fingers with hers, Madeline responded gripping his hand back.

"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 Rruncorn's deep voice. He let go of Maddie's hand and stepped out of the lift.

Madeline jumped up and jogged after him, "Don't forget me Albert I have to help you with that….thing remember?"

Harry stiffened but once he caught sight on Umbridge rolling her eyes and the door shut and he finally relaxed. "Burkeheart, Runcorn what brings you two up here?" 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 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 on level one."

"Ah," said Pius Thicknesse. "Has he been caught having contact with an Undesirable?"

Madeline gulped, "No," said Harry. "Nothing like that."

"Ah, well. It's only a matter of time," said Thicknesse he said turning the other direction, "If you ask me, the blood traitors are as bad as the Mudbloods. Good say, Runcorn, Burkeheart." Maddie growled quietly and whipped out her wand pointing it at the back of the Minister.

Harry pushed her arm down forcefully, "Good day, Minister," he responded through gritted teeth. Harry watched Thickness march away along the thickly carpeted corridor. The moment the Minister had passed out of sight, Harry rounded on Madeline. "You need to calm your trigger hand Maddie, are you gonna whip your wand out at everything?" he asked exasperated.

"I uh…." She looked down sheepishly, "Are you mad at me?"

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, "No just relax a bit with the cursing we need to blend in."

Maddie pouted, "Alright fine." Harry tugged the Invisibility Cloak out from under his heavy black cloak, and threw it over the two of them drawing Madeline close to his chest causing her to blush. Runcorn was so tall Harry was forced to stoop to make sure his big feet were hidden.

Panic pulsed through their stomachs as they set out down the hallway.