Alas, I own nothing! It makes me sad, but it is true. I used references from both the movie and the book! So awesome.
I don't have time for reviews today, super busy, with a TON of homework to do (essays, ugh). Enjoy!
CHAPTER TEN: Escape from the Ministry
"Pink?" muttered Evangeline once off the lift, fiddling with her gray robes. "She gets to wear pink?" Her tone held an envious edge to it as she followed Harry down the hall. She muttered under her breath as Harry continued to ignore her.
"Why don't I get to wear pink?"
"Because that's Umbridge," Harry told her in a bitting voice.
"Oh, right."
Harry rolled his eyes as they hurried down the hall. Evangeline took on the act of being Runcorn's assistant instantly. She followed quietly, her heels clicking against the marble floors faintly. It was silent except for her footsteps.
Harry worried that the outcome of this infiltration might end badly. Ron was doing magic that could mean a woman's liberty, Hermione was now stuck in court proceedings, with Umbridge. And they were on the wrong floor, Umbridge was down in the lift. The main reason they were here, and he was in the opposite direction.
Halfway along the next corridor they emerged into a wide open room where dozens of witches and wizards sat in rows at small desks. Harry watched them, as they waved their wands in syncopation, paper flying through the air, as they created pamphlets. They walked near enough to read the pink pamphlet, emblazoned with gold:
MUDBLOODS
and the Dangers They Pose to
a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society
Harry straightened, as did Evangeline, who looked quite upset. But Harry did not get to dwell on the oh, so Umbridge inspired reading. His gaze was fixed on a door, were there might have been a peephole, was a large round eye with a bright blue iris set in the wood. An eye much like the one Alastor Moody had used. And surprisingly the same shade as Evangeline's.
He crossed the room, Evangeline following as she shadowed his steps. As he approached the door he read the plaque, it read:
DOLORES UMBRIDGE
SENIOR UNDERSECRETARY TO THE MINISTER
Below that, a slightly shiner new plaque read:
HEAD OF THE MUGGLE-BORN
REGISTRATION COMMISSION
Beside him Evangeline made a gagging noise, glaring at the shiny plaque. Harry could almost see her reaching out and ripping it from the door, just because she could. Harry glanced around him at the working witches and wizards creating the pink pamphlets. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew an object with little waving legs and a rubber-bulbed horn for a body. Slowly he dropped it to the floor, where it scuttled away, under the working witches and wizards.
He grabbed Evangeline's arm and they waited standing in front of Umbridge's office door, until a loud bang filled the hall; followed by acrid black smoke billowing out into the air. It was followed by a succession of bangs and more smoke as Harry opened the office door and stepped in.
Like her office at Hogwarts it was covered in pink: Lace draperies, doilies, and dried flowers covered every available surface. The walls had the same plates, each featuring a highly colored, beribboned kitten. The desk was covered in a flowery cloth.
"Accio Locket," he muttered. Nothing happened.
"Harry?"
Harry went behind her desk and pulled out the drawers, finding spellotape; enchanted paper clips that coiled snakelike from her drawer, a small fussy box of spare hair bows and clips; no locket.
"Harry?"
He opened another drawer: it was full of folders each labeled with a name. He recognized many of the names. Grabbing a whole stack, he put them on top of the table.
"Harry!"
Harry's head snapped up to meet Evangeline's now brown eyes. Her blond hair unnerved him; seeing as he was so used to it being black. Her finger was pointed at a poster; his face covering it with a title that read:
UNDESIRABLE No.1
HARRY POTTER
There was a small pink sticky note beneath his picture reading:
To be punished.
Harry glared at his picture, noticing another right beside it. His eyes widened as he saw Evangeline's picture on it. Her black hair handing around her shoulders, bright blue eyes, and a wide smile. Above her picture it read:
UNDESIRABLE No.2
EVANGELINE FALLON
A bizarre sense of confusion swept through him. Evangeline was a target now, too? He understood why he was a target. But her?
Voldemort must want her badly to put her face up on a poster. He imagined the whole wizarding world now knew her name as well, most likely wondering what she was wanted for. Harry grimaced at her.
"He really wants you," he said.
"He wants me dead, Harry," she said with a scoff. "Just because I'm 'purer' than he is."
Harry pursed his lips, eyebrows drawing together. He waved her over, gesturing to the files on the desktop. Evangeline walked over to him, slightly awkward with the black alligator heels she was wearing, and peered down at the files splayed across the desk. She drew in a sharp breath and began shuffling through them, pausing at each file of the person she recognized.
"Albus Dumbledore. . . Arthur Weasley. . . . Alastor Moody," she muttered under her breath. Her eyes narrowed at the red 'X's covering the pictures of those who were dead. "Her-Hermione Granger, location unknown. . . . Remus Lupin. . . ." She stopped staring down at the four pictures before her.
"Nicodemus Fallon, Nathanion Fallon, Michelangelo Fallon, and Jasonius Fallon, whereabouts unknown, to be punished," read Harry. Evangeline's fists clenched, the muscle in her jaw working furiously.
"That- that, ugly, horrid woman," she seethed.
"The lockets not here," Harry told her. Evangeline glanced around and rolled her eyes.
"I think we've already deducted that."
Harry gave a huff of annoyance at her surly attitude and put the files back in order, trying to make it look as it no one had been in the room. Evangeline waited by the door, looking through the telescope that was holding Moody's eye to the door.
"They're still cleaning up, quickly."
Harry strode over to the door and ripped the telescope out of the wood, with a rough, angry jerk. Evangeline jumped back, giving him a meaningful look; he ignored it and opened the door, shoving Moody's eye into his pocket. The door clicked shut behind them once Evangeline hurriedly followed him. They stood in front of the door, as a small balding wizard straightened and addressed them.
"Good day, Runcorn. . . Oppel . ." he said timidly. It was easy to see that Runcorn was a man to be feared. "Er, just a small mishap. Something sneaked up here from Experimental Charms, they're so careless, like that poisonous duck last week. . ."
The little wizard self-consciously straightened his robes. Harry slowly turned away with a nod and hurried down the corridor. Evangeline's heels clicking sharply against the stones, Harry found it rather annoying.
The lift was empty when it arrived, both jumped in as the grilles clanged shut and the lift began its descent. Evangeline did not speak to him. Most likely brooding over what they had seen in Umbridge's office. Harry did not want to speak to her, thoroughly put out by her shifting moods, and constant little questions. He glanced over at her, still finding it odd that she had blond hair, and extremely tall. Her hands were folded behind her back, eyes staring straight ahead.
"Stop staring at me, Harry," she muttered under her breath, "you're making me nervous. Have I changed back?"
"No."
He was relieved when the lift stopped at level two, and a soaking-wet and wild-eyed Ron got in.
"M-morning," he stammered as the lift set off again.
"Ron, it's me, Harry!"
"Harry! Blimey, I forgot what you looked like - who's she?"
"It's me, Ron, Ev," said Evangeline. Ron sighed with relief.
"That's good. I forgot you were so tall. . . . why isn't Hermione with you?"
"She had to go down to the courtrooms with Umbridge, she couldn't refuse."
The lift came to a stop and the grilles slid open, letting a red haired wizard step on followed by a brown haired witch. Evangeline gave a squeak of surprise, as Ron paled. Harry swallowed, his eyes widening as Arthur Weasley stepped onto the lift.
". . . I quite understand what you're saying, Wakanda, but I'm afraid I cannot be party to that." The lift set off once more and an awkward silence filled the air, it was broken by Mr. Weasley with a greeting to Ron.
"Hello, Reg," said Mr. Weasley, looking at Ron's wet robes steadily dripping with water. "I've just heard that Mary's coming in for questioning today. . .try to have faith."
Mr. Weasley placed a hand on Ron's shoulder, pulling away slightly at the wetness of it.
"If there's anything that Molly and I can help with. . ."
"Don't tell me," said the brown haired witch. "It's raining in Yaxley's office again."
"Tell him to try an umbrella?" asked Mr. Weasley. Ron swallowed. Evangeline coughed slightly, trying to hid a snort. Ron had suggested that too earlier. The lift came to a stop and the grilles slid open. Arthur and the witch got off, but not before Mr. Weasley gave Harry a glare with much dislike behind it.
"Arthur," said Harry, halting Mr. Weasley. "You know you're being tracked don't you?"
"Is that a threat, Runcorn?" he replied stepping closer.
"No," Harry said, "It's a fact. They're watching you."
Mr. Weasley gave him an odd look, almost as if wondering why Runcorn would tell him this. Harry stepped back as the grill clanged shut once again, and the lift set off. They steadied themselves, and waited until they reached the last destination. The Department of Mysteries. The grilles slid open, and they stepped out.
"It's bloody cold, down here," Ron stated instantly. A shaky voice filled the air as they walked down the dark hallway, Evangeline stepped closer to Harry, her eyes wide.
"No, no, I'm a half-blood, I'm a half-blood, I tell you! My father was a wizard, he was, look him up, Arkie Alderton, he's a well-known broomstick designer, I tell you! Get- get your hands off me, get your hands off -"
The wizard was being led away, his pleas getting fainter as they dragged him down the hallway, sobbing. Evangeline looked over her shoulder, as her hand gripped Harry's arm. He let her. It was a disturbing thing to see; people being dragged away due to their blood status. The air was ever colder, as they continued entering the threshold of the courtroom. None of them dared to speak, the air was taught with energy.
Harry looked up, pausing slightly at the Dementors that hung overhead. He realized with some relief that a patronus was holding them at bay. A silvery cat, prowled up and down the railing; separating Umbridge, Yaxley and Hermione from the rest of the courtroom.
In the center of the courtroom, in a lone dark chair sat Mrs. Cattermole. She wore long plain robes, her face pale and bloodless. Harry saw her shudder slightly in the chill that the dementors gave off. Hermione looked up at him with wide terrified eyes, he nodded to her discretely.
"Mary Elizabeth Cattermole, of 27 Shizzleherst Gardens of Great Tolly Evesham?" asked Umbridge.
"Yes," relied Mrs. Cattermole in a frightened voice. Harry stiffened at the small tingling sensation lacing through his scar. Evangeline's grip became tight, her eyes fixed on Umbridge, or rather the necklace hanging around her neck. The locket was easy to see, right in plain sight.
"Mother to Maisie, Ellie and Alfred Cattermole? Wife to Reginald?"
"Y-yes," Mrs. Cattermole said again bursting into tears. Ron seemed to have had enough. Whether it was the more compassionate side of him, or his inane belief that he really was Mr. Cattermole; he walked into the courtroom and up to Mrs. Cattermole.
"Reg," she breathed with relief as he placed a hand on her shaking shoulders. Umbridge looked on with a disgusted look. Harry and Evangeline followed, keeping to the sides of the courtroom as Umbridge continued.
"Mary Elizabeth Cattermole, a wand was taken from you upon your arrival at the Ministry today, is this, that wand?" she asked raising a wand into the air. Mrs. Cattermole nodded.
"Will you please tell us from which witch or wizard you took this wand?"
Evangeline dropped Harry's arm, a look of hatred crossing her face. Harry gave her a warning look: widening his eyes and shaking his head. She flared her nostrils, and rooted herself to the floor, glaring up at the pink toad woman.
"I didn't take it. I bought it in Diagon Alley at Ollivanders when I was eleven. It chose me."
"You're lying," said Umbridge in a low voice. "Wands only chose witches and you are not a witch."
"But I am a witch!" sobbed Mrs. Cattermole. "I am! Tell them Reg." Ron slowly looked up at Umbridge, his eyes full of loathing. "Reg, tell them."
Harry felt pure hate boiling in his veins. This woman was evil and vile: she even enjoyed doing this. He approached the raised seats, disgust written upon his face; he drew his wand. Umbridge noticed and tilted her head to the side. Evangeline was also moving. Mirroring his movements as well.
"What on earth are you doing, Albert?" she asked. Harry felt his face shifting, the potion was wearing off. He still glared up at the woman.
"You're lying, Dolores," he said, "And one mustn't tell lies! Stupefy!"
There was a flash of red light; it hit Umbridge, knocking her back into her chair.
"Stupefy!" yelled Evangeline, hitting Yaxley before he could draw his own wand. He fell across the seat.
Hermione climbed up to Umbridge's seat and ripped the locket from her chest, snapping the chain. She tossed it to him, jumping down after. Above, the dementors were moving, eager they seemed to get to the people below. Umbridge's spell was no longer working.
"Let's go!" cried Evangeline, her blond hair steadily changing back into black. The roots already black, her eyes now their brilliant blue. "C'mon!"
"It's Harry Potter!" breathed Mrs. Cattermole. Ron led her out of the room, ushering her before him.
"It is, isn't it honey? That'll be something to tell the kids."
Harry ran down the dark hall, leading them to the lift. It's golden light beckoning for them to hurry faster. He could feel the chill of the dementors gaining. Evangeline tripped on her robes, falling to the ground with a yelp. Hermione reached down and dragged her to her feet. In a vain effort, Evangeline discarded her heels, throwing them at the dementors and missing.
They jumped onto the lift, the golden grilles slamming shut. But the foul hands of the dementors reached through, clawing mercilessly at them. Slimy and scabbed they grasped the air, bringing their faces closer. The familiar pull, and Harry felt as if all the happiness was sucked out of him. It was.
The dementors were sucking the happiness out of them. Think happy thoughts, he reminded himself. Happy thoughts. Harry lifted his wand.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
His silver stag shot from the end of his wand, forcing the dementors back and down the long dark hall. They breathed with relief as the lift moved up. To shocked to speak they waited until the disembodied voice filled the air, once they stopped.
"Level eight," said the cool voice, "Atrium."
They got off, all of them returned to their normal states, except for Ron. Who Mrs. Cattermole clung to desperately. They kept their heads down, making their way to the fireplaces.
"Mary, go home," said Ron to Mrs. Cattermole. They paused slightly, waiting for Ron to catch up. Harry tapped his foot impatiently, glancing around nervously. "Get the kids, I'll meet you there. We have to get out of the country, you understand?"
Mrs. Cattermole nodded.
"Do as I say."
Mrs. Cattermole flung herself at Ron, grasping his face between her hands and kissing him. Hermione's mouth popped open, Evangeline snickered.
As they kissed, Ron began to change back, his red hair replacing the mousy brown. Mrs. Cattermole drew away with a horrified gasp, her hands going to her lips.
"Mary?" another voice asked. Harry stepped back as the real Reginald Cattermole stepped up to his wife. "Who's that?"
"Long story," said Ron, "nice meetin' you." He hurried over to them, beet red. Someone grabbed Harry by his shoulders and gasped.
"Potter? It's Harry Potter!"
Harry shoved the small wizard away, running across the atrium to the fireplaces. Hermione, Evangeline and Ron followed quickly as the wizards in uniforms began to chase after. They shoved people out of the way, desperately trying to get to the fireplaces. Gold grilles closing them from above.
Curses flew past their heads. Harry ducked as one shot past his ear, glancing over his shoulder to see Yaxley in pursuit. Harry shot out his wand, a spell hitting the newspaper stand, sending copies of the Daily Prophet into the air.
They ran, diving into the fireplace. Darkness engulfed them, along with the familiar tightening of the lungs, but something was wrong. . . Hermione's hand seemed to be slipping from his. . .
His lungs screamed for air; he couldn't breath or see. Everything was slowly slipping away. Hermione's fingers, and Evangeline's grip on his arm. He wondered if this was what it felt like to suffocate.
And then he saw the door of number twelve Grimmauld Place, but before he could draw a much needed breath of air, there was a scream and a flash of purple light; Hermione's hand was suddenly vicelike upon his and everything went dark.