Chapter 9
Downfall
The third of November brought no great sense of foreboding to me when it arrived. No half-prophetic nightmare visited to warn me of the days of darkness ahead of us, although I had recently taken to dreaming of wandering through the corridors of the darkened castle as well as the forest. Even the weather seemed cheerful: the sky was bright blue and the clouds seemed far away, the wind was gentle when it blew, and it was not unpleasantly cold. In short, it was the perfect day for the first Quidditch match of the year.
"All right everyone," Amanda began, immediately launching into a pre-game speech that she'd likely been working on for weeks. The air in the change-room was thick with both anticipation and anxiety; the match was Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor, and Gryffindor had been the cause of our team's worst loss last year. Unfortunately, she was cut off by Andrew Garside, Beater extraordinaire, before she could really get into the thrust of it.
"Amanda, if you say anything even remotely similar to 'this is the one we've all been waiting for,' I swear to Merlin..."
"That's not what I was going to say," she said, fixing him with her infamous I'm-Going-To-Kill-You Smile. "But Andrew's right," she said, now speaking to the entire team. "This is the one we've been waiting for. Gryffindor kicked our butts last year, and now we're finally going to give them the thrashing they deserve! We've trained for this," she said, looking each player straight in the eye for at least a moment. "We're ready for this. It's not going to be easy, but that just means that everyone needs to give their all out there." She locked her eyes on the three chasers. "Susan, Aisha, Eric: Cadger's good, but you've got to be better. She's fast, but you've got to be faster. She can't be everywhere at once. Teamwork is your greatest advantage, and remember the formations we've been practicing." The Beaters were next to be addressed. "You two know what you're doing, so make sure you keep doing it. If you play the way you've been playing during practice, you're gonna do just fine. And Polina," she said, focusing all her attention on the pixie-like girl. "You're the best darn Seeker in the whole school, and everyone knows it. We're all counting on you, so be sure to fly circles around Jasmine!"
She then turned to me.
"Seb...what the heck are you doing here? You're not on the team!"
"I know," I said, "but I just couldn't miss your famous pre-game speech. Oh, and you dropped this when you left the Great Hall after breakfast." I held out the opened letter that I had found. "It was open when I found it. I didn't read it or anything, but..." For reasons I couldn't imagine, she immediately blushed bright scarlet and snatched the letter from my hand.
"That's...it's...thank you...nothing..." she stuttered, quickly stuffing it into her blue Quidditch robes. "Thanks. Now get out of here, we've got a game to win!"
"Good luck!" I called as I departed.
"Won't need it!" she replied.
I made my way to the stands, wincing as I looked up at the sky; the perfect conditions I had seen this morning had shifted. The faraway clouds had moved to cover Hogwarts, and the bright fall day now looked as dark as winter. The winds were stronger too. I scowled; but then, our team was no band of amateurs. They'd flown in worse conditions than this.
"Did the sky do something wrong?" said Carmilla, taking the seat next to me.
"Yeah," I replied, smiling. "It changed. Conditions were perfect this morning."
"I don't mind it like this actually," she remarked. "I don't really like being out in the sun. I burn like you wouldn't believe."
"Oh, I believe it," I muttered, considering her extraordinarily fair skin. She regarded me quizzically. "Never mind," I said.
"The Gryffindors sure seem excited," she commented. Even over the noise of the rest of the crowd, they were clearly audible as they chanted some kind of rally cry. I briefly considered making one up for Ravenclaw, but I decided that it was far too early in the day for iambic pentameter. Ravenclaw pride had its drawbacks.
"They're always like that during Quidditch games," I told her. "They won the Cup last year, and they think they'll be doing it again. And it is true that they've got one of the best teams the school's ever seen...but then, we're not bad ourselves," I said, smiling at my own understatement. "We won the year before last."
"Quidditch is a pretty big deal here, isn't it?"
"Oh yeah. We even get House points for winning games. Why, isn't Quidditch big where you come from?"
"Not as much," she told me. "Like, we don't have tournaments at Durmstrang, mainly because we're buried under snow for most of the year. I don't actually know that much about it."
"No Quidditch? What did you guys do for fun?"
"Well," she said, "we did have organized duelling." Blinking in surprise, I made a mental note to suggest this to Professor McLaughlin. McGonagall would probably veto the idea, but it was still worth a shot. "So how much do you actually know?"
"Not a whole lot," she admitted sheepishly. "People fly, throw balls through hoops...that's about it."
"Actually, that's just the Chasers," I corrected her.
"Chasers?" It appeared that I had some explaining to do.
"Okay...I'm not that good at this whole 'explaining' thing, so bear with me," I warned her. "Every Quidditch team has seven players. The Chasers...oh, excellent, they're coming out onto the pitch." As I spoke, the two teams were taking up positions on the Quidditch pitch, which greatly aided my explanation. "Okay, there are three Chasers per team, and they're the ones who do all the scoring...the throwing balls through hoops. The ball they use is called the Quaffle." She opened her mouth to speak. "Don't ask. I have no idea why it's called that. Anyways, each goal is worth ten points. You know Susan; she's one of our Chasers. The other two are Aisha Madan and Eric Bryce. Gryffindor's Chasers are Kenneth Davies, who's also their team captain, Hannah Wilson...she's the short one...and Julia Sunga.
"The three goalposts...or hoops, whatever you like...are guarded by one player called the Keeper. Amanda is our Keeper; she's the best there is," I said proudly.
"Then how did you lose last year?" she asked. I waved off her question and continued with my explanation.
"Anyways, the Gryffindor Keeper is Allison Cadger. She's the one in the back over there. Now, in addition to the Quaffle, there are three other balls involved in a game of Quidditch. Two of them are Bludgers. You'll know the Bludgers when you see them; they're basically psychotic flying cannonballs that zip around and try to knock players off their brooms. Each team has two Beaters...they're the ones with the little bats...and their job is to keep the Bludgers away from the other players on their team. They also hit them towards players on the other team. Our Beaters are Andrew Garside and Shay Mochan, and theirs are Brock Smith and Taylor Lennon, who you know from Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Taylor...I thought his name was Earl," she said, raising an eyebrow.
"Again, don't ask," I chuckled. "The final ball is the Golden Snitch. It's basically a golf ball with wings...oh, sorry; you don't know what a golf ball is... The seventh player on a Quidditch team is the Seeker. Ours is Polina, and theirs is Jasmine Kaur, who you also know from Defense Against the Dark Arts. The Seeker's job is to catch the Snitch."
"That's all?"
"Well, it's not as easy as it sounds," I said quickly. "It's wicked fast, and in the middle of a game it's damn near impossible to see. The game ends when the Snitch is caught, and whichever Seeker catches the Snitch earns a hundred and fifty points for their team."
"So if you catch the Snitch, you win?" she asked.
"Usually," I replied, "but not always. I remember this one World Cup game fifteen years ago, Ireland versus Bulgaria. The Bulgarian Seeker caught the Snitch, but Ireland won."
"What? Then Ireland had what, a hundred and sixty points?"
"Don't ask me," I chuckled. "I think I was about a month old at the time." Any further questions she might have had were cut off by the magically magnified voice of Phillip Keates as it resonated across the pitch. It occurred to me that the idiot that had made him a prefect was probably the same idiot who had made him the Quidditch commentator last year.
"Good morning Hogwarts! Yes, it's that time of year again: welcome to the first match of our annual Quidditch inter-house tournament!" A wave of cheers rose from the crowd, and my voice was among them. "For those who do not remember, I am Phillip Keates, and I will be your commentator for this year's games, which is odd considering I seem to be the only one in the entire wizarding world who finds the game to be rather overrated. It's a shame this morning's lovely weather didn't last, but we've played in worse conditions." I may have been imagining it, but I could've sworn that the entire Gryffindor team flinched in unison...no doubt thinking of their game against Slytherin last year, which had taken place during a hailstorm. "Today's match is Gryffindor against Ravenclaw," Phil continued, "which means that we'll finally get to see which is greater: Ravenclaw brains or Gryffindor testosterone." His quip was received quite coldly by the Gryffindors in the crowd. "Oh come on, what did you expect? Unbiased commentary?
"You'll also be pleased to know," he went on, "that I am under strict orders from Professor McGonagall not to spend the entire match commenting on Ravenclaw Keeper Amanda Watson's many attractive attributes, such as her incredibly oily hair, which she washes with goat's milk and a hint of honey." Carmilla stared at me in bewilderment as I clutched my forehead.
"Not this again," I groaned.
"Little-known fact about Miss Watson," Phil continued, seemingly oblivious to McGonagall's withering glare. "I was actually the one who told her to do that back in first year, except I recommended bat's milk instead of goat's milk. There's a reason she smelled like a rotting corpse for three weeks that year folks! What can I say though, Potions never was my forte."
"Is that true?" Carmilla asked me, sounding completely fascinated for a change.
"Which part?" But we never got a chance to continue the conversation.
"Amanda Watson ladies and gentlemen, the only player on the pitch who thinks that 'gullible' isn't in the dictionary! Oh...and I see that Professor McGonagall is about to murder me, so let's get on with the game then! Oh, and speaking of which: all of you have just lost The Game!" A chorus of groans and boos emanated from the crowd...and yes, again, my voice was among them. It took a moment for me to realize that Carmilla was tugging on my sleeve.
"But the game hasn't started yet!" she said in bewilderment.
"Again," I groaned, "don't ask." I noticed that Professor Chronus, who was refereeing the match, had joined the players on the pitch carrying a large wooden crate that I knew contained the four balls under one arm and her own broom under the other.
"Mount your brooms!" she instructed, pointing her wand at the crate and unlocking it with a flick of her wrist. The two Bludgers and the Snitch immediately shot out of the crate when she did so, but the Quaffle remained sitting like a perfectly normal ball should until Chronus picked it up and threw it into the air, sounding her whistle as she did. At that instant, all fourteen players shot into the air.
"And they're off!" Phil began, doing an admirable job of sounding considerably more interested than he probably was. "And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Kenneth Davies, the most hair-conscious captain the Gryffindor team has ever had." It was clear that Phil was, as was normal for him, going to pepper his commentary with as many humorous jabs at the various players as possible. "Perhaps he could give Miss Watson...sorry Professor, I know, I know. Anyways, Davies passes to Wilson. Point of interest: Davies and Wilson's one-year anniversary is coming up at the end of the month, so be sure to harass them about it constantly! Gift baskets are very thoughtful! But, back to the game...Davies and Wilson passing back and forth while Bryce tries to get between them, Wilson passes to Sunga, Sunga passes to Davies, Davies takes the shot...Amanda's got it! A very nice save by Watson, who passes it on to Madan. And now Madan's taking the Quaffle up the pitch, flanked by Mochan...is that the Snitch?"
Everyone in the stands (myself included) immediately began craning their necks and squinting, trying to catch a glimpse of the tiny gold ball. Jasmine must have seen it, because she immediately shot towards her own goalposts. Polina was also flying at breakneck speeds, but she was on the other side of the pitch, there was no way she could make it in time...
Suddenly, a roar of disapproval rose from the Gryffindors. At the very last second, Andrew, who at least had kept his wits about him, had smacked a Bludger towards Jasmine, who had to dive rapidly to dodge it. She was fine, but the Snitch had vanished.
"And a near-certain Gryffindor victory is narrowly averted by Ravenclaw Beater Andrew Garside! Oh take a Calming Draught Gryffindors, that was perfectly legal!"
It soon became clear that this game was going to be largely a battle of the Keepers. Amanda and Cadger seemed so determined to avoid letting even a single shot get past them that it was fifteen minutes into the game before Aisha managed to get past Cadger to score Ravenclaw's first goal.
"Ten-nothing to Ravenclaw! Davies has the Quaffle now, passes to Sunga who passes...pass intercepted by Rana...Ragna...oh bloody hell, I'm Indian and I can't figure out her name! Pass intercepted by Susan, who's taking it up the pitch now...passes to Bryce, Bryce passes to Ma...wait, no, Davies has the Quaffle, he's going straight for the goal...narrowly dodges a Bludger from Mochan, I think Bludgers are attracted to his hair...fine, fine, no more hair jokes Profes-he scores! The game is tied at ten! See what happens when you distract me Professor? I could've missed that!"
Before long, Gryffindor had scored twice more, but this didn't worry me; all we needed to do was catch the Snitch. I kept my eyes on Polina as she soared over the pitch, straining my eyes just as she was undoubtedly straining hers, looking for that telltale flash of gold.
But it was Jasmine, rather than Polina, who suddenly launched into a steep dive.
"She's seen something!" Phil announced for the benefit of the crowd. "Gryffindor Seeker Kaur has seen the Snitch! Either that or her hamster's escaped and has wandered onto the pitch, but I'm pretty sure she's seen the Snitch!" Taking notice, Polina shot towards Jasmine like a bullet. Within seconds, they were skimming the ground side by side. "This game could be over any second now!" Even the players had stopped, and were hanging in midair to watch the two Seekers race. Well...most of them anyways. Susan grabbed the Quaffle and managed to score while Cadger wasn't looking, causing Brock and Tyler to chase her across the pitch with streams of butterflies shooting out of their wands, but I think Carmilla and I were the only ones who saw all of this. Everyone else, soon joined by us, was completely transfixed by the Seekers, although I was aware enough to notice that Professor Longbottom, head of Gryffindor House, had nearly fallen out of the stands trying to get a better look.
"Polina's closer," Carmilla whispered excitedly. "She's going to make it!" I could hear Phil's amplified voice echoing her sentiments, but I couldn't see how they knew that; as far as I could tell, they were still neck-and-neck. The Snitch was still several feet in front of them, but they were gaining on it inch by inch...
Ultimately, Kenneth proved to be the deciding factor. I'm not certain how he managed to communicate his intentions to Jasmine, but they managed to execute the manoeuvre in perfect tandem. Just when the Snitch seemed to be in Polina's reach, Jasmine abruptly swung upwards, taking her out of Kenneth's path as he dived like a falcon right in front of Polina, who had to brake sharply in order to avoid a collision. The dive caused Kenneth to crash hard into the ground, but the move was successful: with Polina out of the way, Jasmine was able to swoop down and easily grab the Snitch out of the air.
The Gryffindors roared ecstatically while Phil did his best to shout over the crowd.
"Gryffindor wins! Gryffindor wins, one hundred and seventy to twenty!" I could hear some of the other Ravenclaws calling foul, but I knew that the victory had been fair, if galling.
"Come on," I muttered to Carmilla, hopefully sounding less bitter than I felt. "Let's get back to the common room."
While all of this was going on, Harry was at last preparing to execute Operation See Kingsley...okay, he wasn't calling it that, but I like it when operations have "operation" in the title. His earlier vow to speak to Kingsley in person the next day had been made without the realization that it was, in fact, Saturday. The Ministry was naturally not open on Sundays, and Harry was certain that the Minister for Magic would have heavy security measures in place to protect his home. His office was his only weak point, as Harry's position in the Ministry granted him knowledge of all the protective enchantments that guarded it. Having said that, his plan was still completely untested, as it was difficult to book the Minister's office for practice runs of infiltrating the Minister's office. The success of his plan depended on him having an unusual amount of luck, as he had never used the particular spell he had in mind in quite this way, but at least he knew that he was fully capable of Apparating while wearing his Invisibility Cloak.
He was wearing his Invisibility Cloak right at that moment as he lurked outside the Minister's office. There were, of course, numerous people in the outer office in which he was standing, but he was able to avoid most of them by staying pressed against the wall. Once he was convinced that no one in the office was going anywhere, in or out, he began pointing his wand at each of the people in turn, muttering as quietly as possible as he did so.
"Muffliato. Muffliato." Then, praying that he hadn't forgotten any of them, he Disapparated.
With a crack, he reappeared inside Kingsley's office, counting on the spells he had just cast and the heavy oak door to muffle the whip-crack sound that accompanied Apparition. However, there was no way that anyone could miss hearing the blaring siren that bleated from nowhere; Rufus Scrimgeour had personally installed these defences for Cornelius Fudge, and Harry had memorised them all. First, a spell to detect Apparition, and a siren to announce it, which would summon three Aurors who would immediately Apparate into the office. Before they arrived, however, four illusory doppelgangers of the Minister appeared at various points within the room, each enclosed within a powerful Shield Charm, just as the Minister would be. Harry barely had time to register the locations of the five Kingsleys before, with another whip-crack, the three Aurors appeared, pointing their wands every which way as they searched for the intruder.
"What happened Minister?" one of them said to the Kingsley seated behind the desk on the far side of the room. With a jolt, Harry recognized Elle Chandler. He knew that it was possible that one of his Mad-Eyes would be on call, but he knew that he couldn't rely on her if he was discovered. He had told no one of his plan, not even Ron or Hermione. There was no sense in anyone else risking being caught Apparating invisibly into the Minister's office, and the cloak was far too small for all of them in any case.
"I'm over here," said the Kingsley closest to a large ornate mirror fixed to the wall. "And I don't know what happened; the alarm just went off all of a sudden." Harry's eyes widened in shock. What the hell was this? There was no way Kingsley could have missed the sound of his Apparition. Was he protecting him? Perhaps he wasn't under the Imperius Curse after all!
"A misfire?" one of the Aurors said sceptically. "I've never heard of that happening. These defences are supposed to be foolproof."
"No defence is foolproof," Kingsley told him. "You'd better file a report. I'll have Mr. Potter come up here and check the defensive enchantments."
"Yes Sir," Chandler said, and the three Aurors vanished, along with the doppelgangers and the Shield Charms. Harry was about to throw off the cloak and reveal himself, but before he could do so, he saw Kingsley shake his head. He didn't know how Kingsley could have possibly known who the invisible intruder was, but he did know about the cloak after all.
Kingsley paced around his office casually, but Harry could see that he was slowly easing his wand out of his robe pocket. Suddenly, with a swift flick of his wrist, he conjured a solid black shroud that attached itself to the wall, completely obscuring the mirror.
Is someone using a two-way mirror to spy on him? Harry wondered. Assuming that they were now safe, he almost removed the cloak again, but Kingsley very clearly shook his head. How long am I supposed to stand here invisible? What is he waiting for?
Kingsley then walked over to the door of his office, making sure to tread very slowly, although Harry had no idea why. Suddenly, he knocked on the door, paused for a moment, then pulled the door open, and began to speak rather loudly.
"Ah, Mr. Potter! What a coincidence, I was just about to send for you!" He then walked back over to his desk and nodded. Harry took this as his cue to take off the cloak. Kingsley did not seem at all surprised to see him. "We've just been experiencing some difficulties with the anti-intruder defences." As he spoke, he levitated a piece of parchment from his desk so that Harry could see it, and, gesturing with his wand, caused words in black ink to appear upon it.
They are listening.
"What seems to be the problem?" Harry asked, suddenly apprehensive, but determined not to slip up and expose Kingsley's ruse. Come on, he thought. Take the hint. Tell me.
"You didn't hear the alarm?" As Kingsley spoke, he was writing on the parchment with his wand. "The defences just activated on their own!"
They have my wife and son.
"I see," Harry said, feeling as though a block of ice had fallen into his stomach. What the hell was going on here? Who would dare hold the Minister for Magic's family hostage? They're spying on him through the mirror... With a horrible sinking feeling, Harry realized just how much trouble they were in. Putting his own life at risk was one thing, but Kingsley's family... My God, his son isn't even ten years old! Who could have done this? But really, there was only one possible answer.
The silence dragged on for too long. Anyone who was listening had to know that something wasn't right. Harry knew he had to say something.
"I can inspect the enchantments right now if you want," he said, hoping desperately that Kingsley would understand what he was trying to tell him. "You'll have to relocate for the time being though. You can use my office if you like. It should be...safe." He wondered if whoever was spying on them could hear his heart pounding. Had Kingsley understood that he was offering to help him disappear? Kingsley had to understand that he couldn't remain here. The last thing anyone needed was a hostage as Minister.
"Oh, that won't be necessary," Kingsley replied casually, but Harry could see the pleading look in his eyes. "There isn't any indication that there's a serious problem. Besides, I need to remain here today. I have a great deal of work to do."
Damn it Kingsley! Harry cursed silently. He had to understand that he couldn't remain Minister for Magic in this situation! But Kingsley was writing on the parchment again.
Can't leave. They'll know. Kill.
Harry's eyes widened in horror. There was no way in Hell that he was going to risk the lives of Kingsley's family, but he couldn't possibly leave Kingsley in charge of magical Britain, not when he'd been so thoroughly compromised. And suddenly, it occurred to him that there was really only one option left. In order to keep Kingsley's family safe, he would have to be removed from his post unwillingly. That way, Kingsley could disappear without rendering Bellatrix's hostages useless. Harry could only hope that Kingsley would understand why this had to be done.
"Kingsley," Harry said quietly, "I'm really, really sorry about this. Stupefy!" Kingsley flew backwards onto his desk, arms flailing wildly as he fell. With its caster unconscious, the magical veil covering the mirror vanished, and Harry could see himself reflected in it. Well, it's not like they didn't know I was here. "Reducto!" The mirror shattered into a thousand pieces of sparkling crystal. With a certain degree of difficulty, he dragged Kingsley to his feet and wrapped his arms around the limp Minister, trying to transport them both to Number 12 Grimmauld Place; the ancient enchantments protecting Harry's home probably made the place even safer than the Minister's office. However, absolutely nothing happened.
"Damn it!" Harry cursed aloud. There was no reason he shouldn't be able to Apparate out of the office! Had his Stunning Spell triggered protective enchantments that even he did not know about? And if so, who was responsible for concealing that fact from the Head of the Auror Office? In any case, Harry wasn't about to give up so easily. "Kreacher!"
With a whip-crack, Harry's ancient but fanatically loyal House Elf appeared.
"Master Potter will kindly not keep Kreacher long," the House Elf said with only the slightest hint of irritation. "Kreacher is certain that Master Potter's dinner is about to boil over."
"We'll risk it," Harry said with only the slightest hint of a grin. "Can you get Kingsley and I back to Grimmauld Place? There's some kind of enchantment, I'm trapped here."
"One at a time, Kreacher thinks," the elf replied.
"Good," Harry said. At last something was going right. "Take Kingsley first. We need to hide him at Grimmauld Place, no one will be able to find him there. He's Stunned, so put him in my room, make him comfortable. Then come back for me."
"Understood, Master Potter," Kreacher replied, taking Kingsley's limp body from Harry with some difficulty due to his diminutive height. Muttering something about weight loss, Kreacher vanished, taking Kingsley with him. Unfortunately, just as they Disapparated, the office door swung open. Harry spun around, pointing his wand at the intruder, nearly firing off a reflexive Stunning Spell. He barely managed to stop himself when he recognized who he was pointing his wand at. It was Arcturus Crawley.
"Potter!" Crawley's wand was also raised. "What... Potter, what is going on here?"
"I don't have time to explain Crawley," Harry said quickly; Kreacher would be returning at any moment. "You're Senior Undersecretary. Minister Shacklebolt has been temporarily removed from office for security reasons. That makes you Minister for Magic now." Crawley opened his mouth to interrupt, but Harry gave him no chance to. "Just listen Crawley! For once just listen to me! We have to reopen the Lestrange investigation. Kingsley's wife and son are being held hostage by her or her agents. We need to come up with some excuse, say Kingsley's ill or something. We can't let Bellatrix know that we're onto her. She may have agents within the Minis –" His last sentence was cut off as Kreacher re-appeared and instantly transported him home.
Blissfully unaware of what was transpiring, myself and a large number of my fellow Ravenclaws were sitting, standing, or otherwise lounging around outside the common room. None of us could enter until the knocker's riddle was solved, and this one was proving to be a bit of a headache. The riddle in question was as follows: I am as large as Hogwarts, but lighter than air. One hundred wizards and their Hippogriffs could not move me. What am I?
"Do you think it has something to do with the Hippogriffs themselves?" Carmilla asked me. The two of us were pooling our mental resources with Polina and Andrew in an attempt to crack the riddle. We would have asked Amanda or Phil for help, but they were off in a corner of their own yelling loudly at one another, which really wasn't doing much for our concentration.
"Well you did smell like a rotting corpse!"
"Because you put goat's milk..."
"For the last time, it wasn't me! I would've used bat's milk, how many times do I have to tell you that?"
"Should I go over there and tell them to shut up already?" Carmilla growled. I shook my head.
"They're just blowing off steam. They're both upset that we lost to Gryffindor. This is how they deal with it."
"Well they can deal a little quieter," Carmilla grumbled, unsatisfied. Suddenly, pain shot through my head like a hot poker had been jabbed into my skull. I gasped, clutching my head. "Hey, hey!" Carmilla grabbed my arm...which was not altogether pleasant, as her grip was rather strong, and her hands were freezing. "Seb, can you hear me? What's wrong?"
"I don't know," I said. The pain had vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "I just...something happened."
"Well I can see that!"
"No, no," I said, trying to clarify. "Something...something else, somewhere...something good."
"Something good?" she asked, completely bewildered.
"Yeah," I said, just as bemused as she was. "I feel like something really good just happened. Oh!" I cried suddenly, causing Carmilla to jump in alarm. "Sorry, sorry. The answer is the castle's shadow. Think about it."
I didn't know then what had just happened to me. I didn't realize the significance of what I'd just felt, and I didn't know what had suddenly made me so happy. I couldn't have known. I couldn't have known that, right at this moment, Kingsley was waking up at Number 12 Grimmauld Place with Harry Potter standing over him, a look of concern and anxiety etched into his features as if it were permanent.
"Harry...no..." Kingsley groaned deliriously.
"Kingsley, it's all right," Harry said reassuringly. "It's all right. You're safe, you're at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. No one will find you here."
"No...Harry..."
"Kingsley, I need to know what's going on. How much of the Ministry has been compromised? How many people does Bellatrix have?"
"They're everywhere," Kingsley said, suddenly much more alert. "They have infiltrated all levels of the Ministry. But Harry, I need to get back. I have to get back to the Ministry."
"You're not safe there," Harry told him. "And no one is safe if the Minister for Magic is the hostage of Bellatrix Lestrange. Crawley can handle the Ministry for the time being. He's an ass, but he should be up to the task." At this, Kingsley groaned aloud in frustration.
"My God Harry, I've been trying to tell you! Crawley is one of them!"