Doors could be heard crashing open all along the corridor. Footsteps thundered on the polished floor, bringing shouts closer to where Harry stood frozen by Hermione's bedside still in plain view.
'Put the cloak on. Move!'
His limbs finally following orders again, Harry stumbled away from the bed and managed to throw the cloak back over himself. He didn't even bother to curse his stupidity – he would have time for that later – as the room began to fill with people. Healers and Ministry officials filed inside the small room, each brandishing a wand.
"Potter, you say? Well, where is he, girl?" demanded the witch at the front of the group. She was wearing official Ministry robes. Harry didn't recognise her.
Hermione was still staring at the spot Harry had just disappeared from and appeared unable to talk. When it became obvious that she was in no state to speak, the same witch began barking orders.
"This floor needs to be closed off; no one gets in or out. Every room in this ward gets searched. He can't have gotten far." The two other Ministry officials left the room, leaving the head Ministry witch and two Healers.
"Ma'am, don't you think he would have apparated out by now?" one of the Healers suggested uneasily. The way he spoke told Harry that this woman was not to be trifled with.
The Ministry witch smiled nastily in response. Harry was reminded sickeningly of Dolores Umbridge.
"Potter isn't going anywhere. Once the alarm has been raised, anti-apparition and portkey wards are activated. He's still here somewhere. You," she pointed at one of the Healers, "see if you can get any more information from this girl." She thrust her thumb over her shoulder at Hermione who still hadn't moved a muscle. Harry bristled at the woman's rudeness. "And you, come with me," she ordered the other Healer.
Just as they were walking out the door, Hermione found her voice.
"How did he do that?" she whispered.
The Ministry witch came to an abrupt stop and turned back to stare at Hermione in eagerness.
"Do what, child? Come on, out with it! What did Potter do?" she had marched to the foot of the bed and leaned over the railings, visibly frustrated at Hermione's less-than-speedy response.
"It's alright, dear, there's no hurry," the Healer that had been instructed to stay behind sent the witch a disapproving look which was ignored. "Just tell us in your own time. What did you see?"
"I don't know," Hermione shook her head slowly as she spoke. "I was alone, then he was here, then he wasn't here." She said all this very slowly as if trying to work it out. A small bead of sweat slid down Harry's neck. He silently begged his friend to stop talking. How many people in the Ministry knew about his cloak?
"What is this nonsense?" the Ministry witch snorted derisively. "I don't have time to listen to unhinged schoolgirls," she declared as she turned to head back out the door. Harry was about to let out a silent sigh of relief until Hermione uttered the words to his undoing.
"He hid under an invisible sheet."
Nobody spoke. Both Healers looked at each other in confusion, but the Ministry official's eyes were clear with realisation.
"The cloak," she murmured under her breath.
"Sorry?" the Healer still by the door asked. The witch ignored him.
"You sneaky little – Potter is still here. He's hiding under his invisibility cloak." She began moving slowly around the room, her hands out in front of her grasping at the air. Harry quietly backed into the corner of the room and made himself as small as possible. He was sure they must be able to hear his heart thundering in his chest.
The Healers hadn't moved from their places. Instead they were both staring at the Ministry woman as though she had lost her mind; quite fitting when one remembered what ward they were in.
"Ma'am –" one of them began, but cut themselves off when the woman stood up straight and flourished her wand.
"I don't have time for silly games, Potter. Accio cloak!" she cried. Despite knowing that his cloak couldn't be summoned, Harry couldn't help but hold on to its folds a little tighter. When nothing happened, the witch relaxed her wand.
"He must have slipped into the corridor before we got here. He's still in the hospital somewhere, I'm sure of it." And with that she finally left the room.
The Healer beside Hermione broke the silence first.
"I'll stay here with Miss Granger. You had best go and see if you can help somewhere. We don't want to upset Madam Prestwick," he added nervously. The other Healer left without a word.
Harry silently let out the breath he had been holding. With only the one Healer and Hermione remaining in the room, Harry allowed his body to relax as he considered his situation. He was effectively trapped. The only escape route available was the front door, and with a whole hospital full of Ministry officials and Healers on high alert it would be almost impossible to make it without being seen. With the wards that had been placed, he didn't even have the option of simply waiting out the remaining time until his portkey left. His only option was to move.
With one hand covering his mouth to muffle his breathing and groans of pain, Harry slid himself back up the wall into a standing position. He was overcome by another wave of light-headedness and was grateful for the support of the wall; he would be lucky if he didn't pass out before he made it back to America. Several slow, deep breaths later, his head was clear and Harry began to make his way around the perimeter of the room, sticking as close to the walls as possible. Hermione and the Healer were having a quiet conversation, though what about Harry did not know; he was too focused on making it to the door in absolute silence.
Once he got to the open door, Harry peered out into the corridor. There were people everywhere. About a dozen people, mostly Ministry members some of whom Harry did recognise, were standing guard in clearly marked out segments of the hallway. Word had obviously been delivered about Harry's use of the invisibility cloak and they were making it as difficult as possible for him to manoeuvre without bumping into anyone. A sharp snap of a door to his right caught his attention; a Ministry wizard was closing all the doors to the wards and private rooms. This Prestwick woman thought of everything; Harry couldn't open a door without being seen.
The Ministry wizard was drawing closer until Hermione's door was the next one to close. Harry had to make a choice: stay in Hermione's room with her and the Healer, or venture into the corridor and face dozens of Ministry and St Mungo's workers. One would keep him safe but trapped, the other a nigh on impossible route to the exit. Making a decision, Harry stepped out of the room and stood against the wall just to the left of the door, out of the way of the wizard closing doors who was just making it to Hermione's room.
"Ah, Everett, you're still in here, then," the man said to the Healer with Hermione. "Madam Prestwick has requested all rooms be sealed off in order to trap Potter. Will you be staying?" He spoke through his nose in a pompous manner that made Harry want to hit something.
"I certainly will, sir, if that won't be a problem," Everett replied casually, either not noticing the tone of the whining man or otherwise too polite to give a reaction.
"Not at all," the man said. "Perhaps it is wise for this room to be staffed as it is where Potter was first sighted. It is possible he is still in here…" he trailed off as he narrowed his eyes, peering down his nose around the room.
"Quite right, sir," replied Everett.
The man began to pull the door shut and Harry shifted his position to move out of the way, but then the man stopped and stared back inside.
"Everett, what's that by your foot?" he demanded, and stepped into the room. Curious, Harry put his head around the corner to have a look. His stomach plummeted.
"Hmm? Oh, it probably just fell on the floor. It's empty," and he held up the little ink bottle in his hand.
Harry furiously began rummaging through the pockets of his jeans but they were all empty. He looked back at the ink bottle in the Healer's hand. It must have fallen out when he had hurriedly put the cloak back on. He needed to get it back. He –
"Throw it out, would you?" And before Harry even had a chance to react, the door was snapped shut. His only guaranteed escape route had just been thrown into the rubbish. Now he was panicking.
His decision had been to step out into the corridor so as to get to the main entrance of the hospital and get out. That decision had been made before he lost the portkey, though. Now he needed to get back inside Hermione's room which was impossible without alerting every person in the corridor. He needed someone else to open it for him. How long would it be until someone had to go inside, or the Healer, Everett, came out again? Harry didn't even know the time and how long it was until the portkey would leave. He wanted to scream.
Taking a moment to compose himself, Harry backed against the wall and observed the Ministry patrollers. All along the corridor they had formed barriers of people, three of them spanning the width of the hall. It was going to be difficult to get past them without being detected, but before he could worry about that Harry needed to get the portkey.
"Hey!" Harry whirled on the spot at the sudden shout, thinking he had been spotted. A Ministry wizard standing in a row just near where Harry stood was the one who had spoken. "When do we assume he's gotten away?"
'Now. Why don't you all just go, now?' Harry thought desperately.
"Madam Prestwick," whined the nasal-voiced man, "believes a thorough search of this floor should be finished in thirty minutes, at midnight. Until then, no one is to leave their post," he challenged.
Midnight was in thirty minutes. Harry had half an hour to get the portkey and get out of the hospital. Thirty minutes. He wanted to scream again.
'OK, I need to get inside Hermione's room.' Harry looked around at the wizards and witches; none of them looked as though they were going to move let alone open the door. 'I need a diversion.'
Down the end of the corridor by the stairs he had come up earlier, Harry could see a small rubbish bin; it was the sort of object that someone in a hurry could easily knock over. And if it were to fall over seemingly by itself, it would be natural for anyone standing guard looking for an invisible fugitive to leave their post and investigate.
So when the rubbish bin fell over thanks to a carefully aimed Banishing charm by Harry, he was left with an empty hallway for metres either side. Leaving no room for hesitation, Harry strode up to the door to Hermione's room and swung it wide open.
"Yes?" Came the voice from inside.
'Damn.' Harry had completely forgotten about the Healer, Everett.
The man stood up from Hermione's bedside with a frown on his face and slowly walked toward the door. Harry slipped past him so as he was properly inside the room, and began his search for the bin. It didn't take long to find the small waste paper basket nestled in under the bedside table, and sitting right on the top was his ticket to America. Picking it up, Harry stuffed the ink bottle back into his pocket, making sure it wasn't going to fall out again, and turned around.
Everett was staring right at him.
Harry froze. Had the Healer seen something move? Harry was sure he was still covered by the cloak and so he started to backtrack very slowly away from the bed. Everett's eyes didn't follow and Harry allowed himself to relax. The Healer started to close the door again, but stopped at the sound of shouts in the corridor.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU MISSED HIM?!" The shrieks of Prestwick carried down the entire length of the corridor. Everett walked out to see what the noise was about and Harry darted to follow him. Just before he stepped outside he turned to look at Hermione once more; above her lifeless eyes her brows were furrowed in confusion at the sudden yelling from outside. Harry stared, whispered a promise only he could hear, and stepped out of the room.
At the end of the corridor, Prestwick was admonishing the Ministry workers for leaving their post and letting Harry get away. He began to sneak towards them; there was a gap about two feet wide between a witch and the wall, a space Harry would have to fit between to get down the stairs. The closer he got, the clearer the anger on Prestwick's face became; she was a tall and broad woman, and she used her entire frame to tower over the others. Her neck was glowing red and spittle flew from her lips, landing on those unfortunate enough to be at the front. She was a truly terrifying force and Harry began to feel slightly sorry for those on the receiving end of her fury. He quickly remembered, though, that those same people were trying to find and arrest him. All sorry feelings evaporated.
Harry was beginning to feel quite faint, and so it was with great hesitation that he slid around the wall and stepped down onto the first step. He glanced back up at the witches and wizards gathered. No one had noticed him. Harry was so close to Prestwick now that he could have reached out and touched her. Not wanting to risk exposure any longer, Harry slowly backed down the stairs, not taking his eyes off the Ministry officials, with one hand on the wall to keep him steady. When he felt he had gone far enough, he turned around and hurried on silently.
Once he got about halfway to the ground floor, a sudden wave of dizziness came over Harry and he had to stop. He hunkered down onto the bottom step and took in deep breaths to try and calm his turning stomach. If he didn't get something to eat soon he was going to pass out, and then he'd never get out of St Mungo's. As the world tilted, Harry noticed a clock on the wall.
11:51pm.
Could he make it out in nine minutes? His churning stomach and spinning head said no, but they weren't the ones he was listening to. Ignoring every complaint in his weak and aching body, Harry used the hand rail to pull himself to his feet and continued to stumble his way down the stairs.
When Harry got to the ground floor and looked out into the waiting room, he almost cried out; with the whole hospital in lock down, every visitor had been instructed to go to the foyer and wait for further notice. There were almost three times as many people as there had been when Harry arrived. He couldn't even see the front door. There was no way he would be able to get there. Harry's head was throbbing by now, and he felt as though he were going to be sick.
"Make way, please!" A tiny wizard tried yelling close to where Harry stood. The mass of people could hear nothing, as the rumble of voices droned on. Frustrated, the tiny wizard pointed his wand into the air and –
BANG!
Silence fell on the crowd.
"Out of the way, please, ladies and gentlemen. Ministry workers coming through." In Harry's delirious state, he had failed to notice just where the little man had been standing. Suddenly the lift doors opened behind him revealing Prestwick and six of the Ministry people from upstairs. The crowd parted like the Red Sea and Prestwick led her team out of the lift. Seeing no other option, Harry threw himself out from his hiding place and followed them hot on their heels.
It was difficult to find a balance in where to walk; in front, Harry was trying not to tread on the hem of the Ministry wizard's robes, and behind, he was quickly being closed off as the crowd moved back to fill in the vacated space. Ever so slowly they moved through the crowd until Harry could see the main entrance. Two Ministry wizards stood either side, not allowing anybody inside to leave. Prestwick began to speak to them, while those who had been following moved off to the side. Harry now stood directly behind Prestwick, her and the two wizards she spoke to blocking off his path to the exit.
Harry soon became aware of a light vibration coming from his jeans' pocket. The portkey was getting ready to leave. He had to get out, though; with the wards set up, the portkey would not be able to leave, and then he'd have no way of returning to America. That would be disastrous. His best bet was to get out into the street, except that meant getting through Prestwick and the other two wizards. There was a small gap between them, but he'd never fit through without being noticed. It didn't look as though they had locked the door, so Harry made his decision and leaped forwards.
Cries of alarm went up as Prestwick and the two Ministry wizards went sprawling, seemingly of their own accord. Harry scrambled over the flailing bodies in an attempt to get to the door, but Prestwick wasn't done.
"IT'S HIM! IT'S POTTER!" she shrieked, clambering to her feet.
Harry didn't turn back to see if anyone was coming to her aid. He got to the exit and threw himself forwards, through the glass. He could see the street now. He'd done it.
Then someone landed on him and the breath was knocked out of his lungs. They went rolling into the gutter, Harry desperately fighting to get free. Someone else's hands grasping at his cloak, he managed to free himself and roll away from his attacker. He turned around just as Prestwick got to her feet, Harry's cloak in her hands. The portkey began to tremble more violently and Harry could now see a blue light shine out of his pocket. He removed the ink bottle and held it up, the bright glow lighting both his and Prestwick's faces.
Prestwick threw the cloak to the side and pointed her wand at Harry, who dove gracelessly to the ground only narrowly avoiding the curse that flew towards his head. Still holding the ink bottle tightly in his hand, Harry knew he only had seconds left. He stretched his hands out towards the cloak lying on the road just as he felt the familiar jerk behind his navel –
– and he went sprawling on the grass, the ink bottle falling out of his grasp. He scrunched his empty hands into fists – he had lost the cloak. Harry buried his face into the soft earth and screamed in frustration, not caring if there was anyone nearby who would hear. The cloak had been the only thing he still had from his father and now it was thousands of miles away on a different continent. He was never going to get it back.
Turning over he noticed the long stretch of concrete – he had landed by a road. Fighting to hold on to consciousness, Harry squinted and could just make out a car coming towards him. He knew he should move, but he was far too weak. Instead he just closed his eyes and let the darkness envelop him.
