Author's Note: Firstly, humble apologies for the delay in this chapter. It was very nearly ready for publication on Sunday when I realized I created an eventual plot hole in this chapter that would come back to haunt me at the end of the story – can't have those.

Secondly, you'll notice that Mr. Weasley has a particular talent with Transfiguration, and the reason for that is as follows: I would image that someone like Arthur who heads the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office would need to be well versed in two particular areas: Transfiguration and Charms/Enchantments. He successfully charms a car to fly and turn invisible for a period of time, restores Sirius' motorbike with enhancements, and would face nastily charmed and/or transfigured muggle artifacts for the purpose of harm to Muggles in general. I'm not saying Dumbledore level of Transfiguration, but certainly very competent. He was able to effortlessly conjure several chairs for his family when they came to visit him in St. Mungos, which is an advanced form of Transfiguration. Remember, too, it's Mrs. Weasley who tells us in GOF that the only reason Arthur didn't excel at the Ministry is due to his fondness for Muggles. That leaves us to believe that talent wise, Arthur is a skilled wizard. And of course, let's not forget he raised Fred and George Weasley, who are actually very talented, just not academically.

Lastly, as per ritual, none of this is mine. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Twenty: Undesirable Number One

It was well over a week before Mr. Weasley and Remus returned to Number Twelve. It had been a difficult wait for the trio; Harry, his impatience getting the better of him, had taken to Dumbledore's habit of pacing the same room in small lengths. If one looked closely enough, they would see the clear indication of frequent foot traffic, even though Kreacher had taken to cleaning the house with new fervor. This of course, did nothing for Harry's mood, as Hermione had unabashedly made the observation that Kreacher's whole behavior had changed overnight.

As all they could do was to wait patiently for Mr. Weasley, Hermione turned her attention back to the many books she had brought along, as well as raided the Black Library. She took copious amounts of notes, ranging from new protective and concealment charms, to basic survival spells in the event they were forced to vacate Number Twelve for any length of time.

Ron found his own way to cope with the down time; he had delegated himself to the task of managing Kreacher, which Harry was only too happy to let him do. As a result, Number Twelve had been transformed into a livable and comfortable residence. Under Ron's direction, Kreacher relocated the severed House-Elf wall mounts into Regulus' bedroom, which had become Kreacher's new room. Kreacher had also managed to remove the screaming portrait of Sirius' mother as well. Most notable, and true to Ron's greatest passion, was the significant improvement to the menu. Kreacher now prepared meals comparable to Hogwarts, though on a much smaller scale. When Mr. Weasley and Remus returned to Number Twelve, it was to a completely different house.

"Alright, here's the plan," said Mr. Weasley, taking a seat at the head of the kitchen table. "Hermione, you'll be going as Mafilda Hopkirk," he said, handing her a small pouch that contained her hair samples. "Ordinarily, she only works in the Improper Use of Magic Office, but as our luck turns out, she's also fulfilling the role of clerk for all the Muggle-born hearings. As you're naturally studious, you should go unnoticed. However, we need to be careful; you're name appeared on a Ministry list, as well as in the Prophet, being one of several Muggle-borns that failed to present themselves for interrogation. Now, this shouldn't be an issue as long as you take extra potion with you in the likely event this takes longer than an hour."

"What happens if you fail to present yourself," asked Hermione.

"If you submit willingly, and it's found you can't show any magical relation, it's a life-long sentence to Azkaban," said Mr. Weasley gravely. He took a deep steadying breath. "But if you are brought in under force, a Dementor's Kiss is administered on site." A collective shiver passed through the kitchen.

"And if things truly go awry, Kingsley, myself, and a few disguised Order members will be more than ready to get you out safely." Hermione could only nod a response but Harry was now feeling sickly. Mr. Weasley then handed Harry and Ron their pouches.

"Harry, you'll be impersonating Albert Runcorn; he works under Umbridge and actively investigates the claims of suspected Muggle-borns. Last week he discovered that Dirk Cresswell forged his family tree. He's in Azkaban now, but I heard rumor they're considering making a public example of him." Mr. Weasley fell silent for a moment before he continued.

"Ron, you'll be Bernie Pillsworth—works in the Magical Maintenance Department—he was cleared a week ago, so we shouldn't arose any suspicions. Remus, you have the Polyjuice?"

"I brought half the stock," he said, setting down several single-dose vials. "Now, you three all have the wand holsters Tonks got you, right?" The three nodded.

"Excellent; they should have a small pouch where you can store an extra vial."

"Alright," said Mr. Weasley, leaning in, "here's the plan…"

() () ()

"Here are your tokens," said Mr. Weasley the next morning in the deserted alleyway. He handed each of them a small golden coin embossed with the letters M.O.M. "Remus and I have already sent the real Hopkirk, Runcorn, and Pillsworth home. They also believe they called in sick, so they won't be none-the-wiser come tomorrow morning."

"Brilliant," said Ron.

"Yes, well, it's a bit early to be celebrating," said Arthur. "Now, take your potions, and I'll transfigure your robes. Harry, you have your dueling robes and Invisibility Cloak, right?"

Harry nodded before tossing his hair sample into his first potion vial. Grimacing at the putrid black goo his potion had turned too, he plugged his nose and drank the only mouthful he could manage. In a few minutes time, he, Hermione, and Ron had all transformed into their Ministry personalities.

"Let's see," said Mr. Weasley, standing first in front of Hermione, "you need Mafalda's spectacles." He flicked his wand and transfigured a set of empty glass frames from his shirt pocket into a pair of petite, thin-framed glasses. He gave another flick and her robes transformed into the typical Ministry Purple that Mafalda often wore. Harry gave Hermione a brief smile.

"I always wondered what Mafalda looked like," said Harry. "We've corresponded several times, though it was always a bit one-sided." Mafalda Hopkirk was an older woman with streaks of emerging gray hair among the youthful blonde that remained.

"Charming," said Hermione.

"Ron, you next," said Mr. Weasley. He quickly transfigured Ron's robes into the official Ministry Blue of the Maintenance Department. Bernie Pillsworth was much older than Mafalda; he was a bit round in the mid-region with white glistening hair—some of it receding far past the top of his head. When Ron nervously smiled, Harry took notice of Bernie's slim sinister smile, revealing only the top row of his teeth while his upper lip curled slightly at the edges toward his dimples.

"And finally, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, waving his wand a fourth time, transfiguring Harry's robes into a black leather trench coat.

"Alright, now, let's go over a few things again before we head into the Ministry," said Mr. Weasley. "The hearings for the Muggle-born Commission all take place in the Wizengamot Chambers, which are located on level ten. We'll be arriving in the Atrium, level eight. Now, Mafalda checks in every morning with her department, which is on level two. Once you've checked in, Hermione, simply head back down to level ten."

"Right," she said nervously.

"Don't worry; Dedalus will be discreetly tailing you—disguised, of course—he'll push you in the right direction if nothing else." He turned to Ron next.

"Ron, you can follow me without any suspicion – Magical Maintenance has a breakroom on level three, but there's no reason for you to go there. If anyone appears to be nosy, I'll simply strike up a maintenance request with you."

"Got it," said Ron.

"Harry, you're a bit trickier," said Mr. Weasley. "Runcorn works directly under Umbridge, so you'll be lifting all the way up to level One. You need to be careful; I can't go up there without arousing suspicion. Kingsley will be keeping a lookout and join you on the lift at level two on your way back down to the courtroom. I believe the first hearing is scheduled for ten this morning; Mary Cattermole is up for questioning if I remember the report correctly. This is important for you Ron, just in case we come into contact with Reggie, her husband. He works in Magical Maintenance. As far as I'm aware, they're friendly, but even so, try to limit your conversation if it comes up. And finally, most importantly, don't give ourselves away by sharing glances or any physical contact—none of the folks you're impersonating get along well enough to be that comfortable. Now, follow me, and remember to place your tokens into the slot on the door."

Together, they stepped out onto the crowded pavement, joining several oddly dressed people who were all heading in the same direction. Soon, they came to two sets of stairs with spiked black railings, each labeled: gentlemen and ladies respectably. Hermione broke away from them as she descended her flight of stairs, while Harry and Ron followed a small distance behind Arthur.

"Morning, Bernie," called out a wizard in the same navy blue robes Ron was wearing. The stranger deposited his coin. "I sure do miss the old way—who do they expect to turn up anyway—Harry Potter?"

"Only if he's as barmy as the papers say," said Ron without missing a beat. They watched Arthur slip into one of the many cubicles. Following suite, Harry and Ron did likewise and did exactly as Mr. Weasley had instructed. Harry hoisted himself up onto the toilet and prepared himself as he stepped into the toilet bowl. True to Mr. Weasley's word, Harry did not feel the water around his feet. He reached up, pulled the chain, and immediately felt a powerful pull from beneath his feet. It was a strange sensation, not unlike the compression he felt from Apparition. He must have done it properly though as the next moment he emerged from the fireplace and found himself standing in the Atrium.

Harry could tell much had changed since Voldemort had taken over from within the shadows. Immediately noticeable was the absence of the golden Fountain of Magical Brethren. In its stead was a black granite monolith featuring several witches and wizards on individual, ornately carved thrones, all positioned as if they were looking down upon the Ministry workers. The new monument was additionally accompanied by foot-high gold letters which spelled the motto of the new Ministry: Magic is Might.

The Atrium was darker than Harry remembered it also; the beautiful peacock blue ceiling was now a dull gray. The walls were plastered with posters containing the face Harry recognized as his own. The words: Undesirable Number One was boldly printed beneath his face.

But Harry had little time to dwell on these changes as he was soon separated from Arthur, Ron, and Hermione by the influx of Ministry employees began shuffling into the Atrium. He gradually made his way toward the lifts, finding himself in the company of wizards and witches he'd never seen before. However, it soon became apparent that Runcorn was well known.

"Morning, Albert," said a heavily whiskered man as the lift creaked into life and began its journey upward.

"Morning," said Harry, nervously. He didn't dare say much else. The unknown wizard leaned toward him and spoke so only Harry could hear him.

"So, Dirk faked his family tree, did he," the wizard asked.

"Naturally," said Harry, coming to his senses as he remembered Mr. Weasley's earlier synopsis. "Nasty business, but what can you expect with deceitful people all around?"

"Indeed," said the wizard. "Well, it's a good job you found out; one more undeserving thief for Azkaban, and I'm pretty confident I'll have his job now. Can't thank you enough!"

"Just doing my job," said Harry, growing more uncomfortable by the moment. The lift came to a sudden halt and a disembodied female voice filled the compartment.

"Level Six, Department of Magical Transportation, including: Flood Netork Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and the Apparition Test Centre." Harry watched a handful of wizards, including the stranger, and witches depart as a smaller group boarded. The lift gate closed and they were off once more. Twice more the lift emptied and filled itself as it continued upwards.

"Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including: Auror Headquarters, Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, Improper Use of Magic Office, and the Wizengamot Administration." All the passengers except for Harry got off on level two. For a moment, Harry thought he'd be traveling alone to the top level, but was greeted shortly thereafter by the new Minister of Magic; Pius Thicknesse. Harry was thankful Mr. Weasley had spent time reviewing the regime change within the Ministry.

"Runcorn, good day," greeted the Minister.

"Good day," said Harry, with a curt little bow.

"I understand congratulations are in order," said the minister as he stroked his silver streaked beard. "Job well done on the Cresswell case."

"Thank you," said Harry.

"Yes, Dolores spoke highly of you the other day. I suspect you'll be adequately commended and compensated for rooting out some of the cancer that infests these walls."

"Just doing my job, sir," repeated Harry. The minister bowed his head politely and fell silent. Harry did not like this Runcorn person; imitating the man was enough to make his stomach crawl. At long last, the lift made its final ascension

"Level One, Minister for Magic's Office, including: Minister for Magic Support Staff and Office of the Muggle-born Registration Commission." The golden rails slid apart as Harry found himself face-to-face with the pink-clad, toad-witch, Dolores Umbridge.

() () ()

"Runcorn, your timing is impeccable," said Umbridge, looking up from her clipboard. "We're in courtroom ten today, but I seem to have forgotten the Cattermole file on my desk. Would you be a dear and fetch it from my office before you head down? It would save me a good deal of time."

"Uh, sure, madam," said Harry, stepping out of the lift with the Minister.

"I'll have a full report at the end of the day for you, Minister," she said. Thicknesse gave her a bow and soon disappeared down one of the corridors.

"You remember the password from last night, Albert" she asked. She gave Harry a sly wink which sent several chills up his spine. He was thankful that Runcorn's deep voice came forth instead of his own.

"I think it's slipped my mind," he said. Umbridge leaned in close to his ear, her breath hot on his neck.

"Blood Supremacy," she whispered. She leaned back into the lift and consulted her clipboard once more as the lift began its decent, leaving Harry alone. With little time to waste, Harry set off down the left corridor—thanks to Mr. Weasley's Intel—toward Umbridge's office located at the end of the hall. He passed a few workers, all of which immediately diverted their eyes from his gaze. Runcorn must be terribly unpopular , thought Harry as he went on. Finally, after several more minutes and at the end of the long corridor, Harry came to a large, bright pink door with a gold plaque that read:

Dolores Umbridge

Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic

Head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission

But something else on the door caught his attention; the bright blue iris of an eye Harry immediately recognized was planted on the door where one would normally find a peephole. The magical eye of Alastor Moody was stationary and did not appear to function as it once did. Harry felt the acid in his stomach boil as he quickly looked over his shoulder and attempted to pull the eye from the door with physical force. But the eye wouldn't budge.

"Blood Supremacy," said Harry in a scathing voice. Several clinks came from behind the door as multiple locks released. Harry pushed the door open and felt himself transported to his fifth year at Hogwarts. Lace draperies, doilies, and dried flowers covered most of the office, leaving hardly a space untouched. The walls were painted in the same hideous pink as the office door, covered by the same kitten-clad ornate plates that Harry longed to smash with a hammer. As he surveyed the room, he found a telescopic attachment on the door, undoubtedly connected to Moody's eye. Harry gave another attempt, feeling some degree of satisfaction as the whole assembly ripped easily from the door, including Mad-Eye's eye. Harry easily removed the eye this time and placed it in his pocket.

"Accio Locket," incanted Harry, but as expected, nothing happened. Harry rushed to her desk and began shuffling through the papers gathered in neat stacks, taking special care not to lose the file he'd been sent to collect. All were files of Muggle-borns scheduled for hearings. He found parchment and quill and jotted down the names as quickly as he could and stuffed that into his pants pocket as well. He then proceeded to shuffle through each of the desk's drawers, again finding no locket. He moved to the filing cabinet behind the desk, not really expecting to find the locket there either; indeed, he soon began suspecting that Umbridge was likely wearing the locket.

He did however; discover a file labeled, Undesirables. He picked it up and felt another wave of anger. He read through the list quickly:

UNDESIRABLE NO. 1

Harry James Potter:

Half-blood, enemy of the Ministry, pro-Muggle leanings, known accomplice to Albus Dumbledore

CURRENT LOCATION: Unknown, last known residence vacated

STATUS: to be punished for Ministry slander, libel, and involvement with the death of Albus Dumbledore

UNDESIRABLE NO. 2

Hermione Jane Granger:

Muggle-born, enemy of the Ministry, pro-Muggle leanings, best friend of Undesirable No. 1, possibly romantically involved with Undesirable No. 1

Harry paused here, his brows furrowed: once more the rumors perpetuated by Rita Skeeter appeared to be the Ministry's main source of intelligence. Harry kept reading:

CURRENT LOCATION: Unknown, likely traveling with Undesirable No. 1

STATUS: to be punished for failure to register blood status

UNDESIRABLE NO. 3

Ronald Bilius Weasley:

Pureblood, enemy of the Ministry, Muggle attitudes unknown, but suspected to share his father's (Arthur Weasley) pro-Muggle attitudes and is also best friends with Undesirable No. 1 and No. 2

CURRENT LOCATION: Home, seriously ill, Ministry inspectors confirmed

STATUS: to be determined

UNDESIRABLE NO. 4

Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody:

Pureblood, known member of the Order of the Phoenix, Ex-Auror, Suspected pro-Muggle leanings, known close friend of Albus Dumbledore

CURRENT LOCATION: Unknown

STATUS: Deceased

UNDESIRABLE NO. 5

Arthur Weasley:

Pureblood, Ministry employee, recently demoted back to Head of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, Known pro-Muggle leanings, possibly obsessive fascination, known member of the Order of the Phoenix,

Entire family (Percy Weasley, exception), under suspicion of Ministry contempt

CURRENT LOCATION: Ottery St. Catchpole, Continues Ministry Employee without incident

STATUS: In the event of contact with Undesirable No. 1 or No. 2, to be punished severely

Harry stopped reading and folded the file and stuffed it inside his trench coat. Harry gave the room one last sweep before inspiration struck. He dipped the loose quill into the ink jar and took a spare piece of parchment and composed a note for Umbridge:

I Must Not Tell Lies,

Yours,

Undesirable No. 1

Just as Harry turned to leave, however, he caught the corner of the desk with his still uncomfortable body and fell face forward. He extended his arms to ease the fall when he felt the glass break against the side of the desk from within his wand holster. The vial containing the Polyjuice has smashed against the desk. Panic flooded Harry as he quickly used his wand to clean the mess. He had to get to the courtroom now. He grabbed the Cattermole file and dashed from the office and back down the long corridor toward the lifts.

The lift came to a stop on Level Two as Kingsley boarded, his magnificent purple robes billowing slightly with his movement. Only when the lift gates had shut and began its decent did Kingsley speak.

"You're cutting it a little close, Harry," he said, his deep voice bringing a small ounce of calm back to Harry.

"Umbridge sent me to her office for a file," said Harry. "I took the opportunity and found this," he handed Kingsley the bent and crumpled file. "I don't how much of this the Order knows, but I thought it wouldn't hurt to have it. Also," he added, giving Kingsley the copied list, "these are the names of Muggle-borns that are scheduled for hearings."

"Good work, Harry," said Kingsley. "We can do something with this, I'm sure."

"I also have this," he said, handing over Mad-Eye's eye.

"So they had found the body," said Kingsley sadly.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Also, I broke my spare vial of Polyjuice potion. I have my invisibility cloak, but Umbridge is expecting me with this file. We might have to improvise."

"How much time has expired since you took your dose?"

"Forty-five minutes, at least."

"Improvisation might be the wrong word," said Kingsley.

Once the lift had fully descended to the bottom level of the Ministry, Kingsley directed Harry to courtroom ten, but it wasn't necessary. Harry was unlikely to forget his full tribunal hearing just prior to his fifth year. There was something different however; an unnatural chill filled the dark corridor that lead to courtroom ten. He felt the weight of the coldness on his body, the new sharpness to his breathing and even the slight mist that escaped with every exhale. As he and Kingsley approached the double doors of courtroom ten, two distinctively tall, black-hooded, skeletal framed figures hovered inches from the tile floor, guarding the entrance.

Dementors.

Doing his best to suppress his shivers, Harry walked beyond them and proceeded into the courtroom with Kingsley following closely behind. Inside, he discovered a horrifying reality.

The courtroom was different then he remembered: once an empty and high-reaching ceiling presided over the courtroom; now, the void was filled with a horde of Dementors hovering overhead, blind-witnesses to the miscarriage of justice below. He spotted Mr. Weasley soon enough, having taken a solitary seat on one of the many audience bench seats. Not much further away were several witches and wizards grouped together on yet another bench. Some were crying as others attempted to shield themselves physically from the effects of the Dementors. Ron, he saw, stood leaning on a broom at the back of the courtroom, though his body was shivering slightly. Hermione on the other hand, had been seated to the left of Umbridge—accompanied by a small feline Patronus—who stood at the very podium Fudge had once looked down upon him from. It was then that Harry noticed it; glinting in the light of her cat Patronus was the green serpentine 'S' of Salazar Slytherin's locket. Lastly, Harry recognized the wizard sitting on Umbridge's right; Yaxley, a known Death Eater.

"Ah, Albert, I was beginning to worry," said Umbridge. "You have the file, yes?" Harry quickly shuffled down the aisle and presented the file to Umbridge.

"Made a detour to the loo, sorry for the delay," he said.

"Quite alright, Albert," she said with the poisonous smile Harry knew well. "Fell free to stay for the hearing if you like, I'm sure you could use the break from the office."

"Thank you," he said, retreating to his own solitary bench. He watched as Kingsley discreetly dropped a note to Mr. Weasley and promptly returned to his spot against the courtroom wall.

"Next—Mrs. Mary Cattermole," called Umbridge, before turning to Hermione again. "Are you ready to being, Mafalda?"

"Yes, Madam," she said.

"I must say, Mafalda, I like the change in your enthusiasm." Hermione gave her a forced smile as a small woman stood up, trembling violently from head to toe. Her face was pale from the lack of blood flow and fear. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun.

"Sit down, please," said Umbridge, her voice carrying the familiar soft and silky tone.

Mrs. Cattermole timidly approached the chair Harry also recognized. This was the chair of the accused. The moment Mary Cattermole took her seat, several chains immediately materialized from the arms of the chair and bound her. Comprehension fell on Harry; this was no hearing—it was a sentencing. The young distressed woman let out a plea for help. Harry caught the distinctive longing from Mr. Weasley.

"You are Mary Elizabeth Cattermole," asked Umbridge.

"Y—Yes, yes I am," she said, voice shaky. Harry could feel the Dementor's chill on her voice.

"Married to Reginald Cattermole of the Magical Maintenance Department?" At this moment, the doors of the courtroom opened as a man dressed in navy blue robes sprinted down the aisle to the chair of the accused. The woman burst into tears.

"Ah, Reginald isn't it," asked Umbridge sweetly. "As Mrs. Cattermole appears incapable of answering, perhaps you can answer in her stead?"

"Yes, Mary is my wife," he said, standing tall. "She is falsely accused, Madam."

"Thank you," said Umbridge, waving his comment away. "As you're no doubt aware, Mrs. Cattermole, a wand was confiscated from you upon your arrival at the Ministry today—eight-and-three-quarter inches, cherry, Unicorn-hair core—do you recognize that description?

"That's my wand," she squeaked.

"Could you please inform the court from which witch or wizard you took that wand?"

"T—took," she sobbed, "I d-didn't t-take it from anyone—I b-bought it from Olivander's—it c-choose me."

"Lies," said Dolores softly, leaning over the podium. "Wands only choose witches or wizards, and you, Mrs. Cattermole, are not a witch." She shuffled through the file before her and held up a slip of parchment.

"But I am a witch," said Mary, her eyes glistening with tears. "I got the letter from Hogwarts; Professor Sprout accompanied me through Diagon Alley."

"I will not tolerate lies in this courtroom, Mrs. Cattermole," snapped Umbridge, losing her falsely sweet tone. She read from the leaflet in her hands: "Parents professions: green grocers." Mary again burst into tears as Yaxley added his own thoughts.

"Stop you're blubbering, Mudblood."

"You see this, Mrs. Cattermole," said Umbridge, flashing the locket. "This is an old family heirloom, from the Selwyn family. My family is long descended from that line. Can you make such a claim?"

"The wand," she said, shaking the tears from her eyes before giving Umbridge a defiant stare, "the wand chose me; I am a witch."

"Enough with the lies," shouted Umbridge. "I think we've heard enough to reach a conclusion, don't you, Yaxley?"

"More than enough," he agreed.

"Mary Elizabeth Cattermole, you are hereby charged: that you knowingly and deliberately stole the property of a witch or wizard, with the intent to infiltrate the magical community for the purpose of destabilizing the purity of the magical world. For your crimes, you are hereby sentenced to life in Azkaban."

"NO," she wept, "Reginald, tell them, tell them I'm a witch."

"Madam, have mercy," said Reginald. "My wife is a witch; she has been all her life, at Hogwarts and after. She did not steel her wand."

"Prepare another cell in Azkaban," said Umbridge with a greedy smile. "After all, it's clear you don't wish to be parted from your thief of a wife." The color drained from Mr. Cattermole's face. Harry could stand it no longer. He had already felt the Polyjuice potion leaving his body; it would be only moments before his true identity would be known. His feet carried him without thought as he found himself standing between the Cattermoles and Umbridge, his wand pointing directly at Umbridge's chest.

"Albert, what are you doing," she asked, suspiciously.

"You shouldn't tell lies, Dolores," he said. He felt his body shrink and his vision grow blurry. He reached with his free hand and put on his glasses. Yaxley raised his wand but Hermione was much quicker and silently stunned him from behind. Harry acted before Umbridge could say another word.

"Stupefy," he shouted. His Stunner hit her square in the chest, sending her backward several feet, leaving her in a crumpled pile on the raised platform.

"Harry, what were you thinking," asked Hermione frantically. "You can't be seen here! And why didn't you take your extra potion?"

"No time," said Harry, "quick, grab the locket!" Ron, Kingsley, and Mr. Weasley rushed to join them.

"Quick thinking, Miss. Granger," said Kingsley. "We'll need to act fast to get you lot out of here. You got what you were looking for I take it?"

"Yes," said Harry. But before he could elaborate, Mrs. Cattermole screamed. In unison, they turned and dread filled Harry; the horde of Dementors descended upon them.