Hey, guys! Here's another chapter, updated quickly to make up for my lack of other updates over the time span of…forever. Ha…ha…Okay, just pretend to be amused and not upset with me!

Disclaimer: Otters hold hands when they sleep for protection. If you don't think that's cute, leave right now.

…

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

"Y-yes," squeaked Hermione. Levina looked between the two with frightened, fleeting now-blue eyes.

"Good, you'll do perfectly well." Umbridge spoke to the wizard in black and gold. "That's that problem solved. Minister, if Mafalda can be spared for record-keeping we shall be able to start straightaway." She consulted her clipboard. "Ten people today and one of them the wife of a Ministry employee! Tut, tut...even here, in the heart of the Ministry!" She stepped into the lift besides Hermione, as did the two wizards who had been listening to Umbridge's conversation with the Minister. "We'll go straight down, Mafalda, you'll find everything you need in the courtroom. Good morning, Albert, Alicia. Aren't you two getting out?"

"Yes, of course," said Harry in Runcorn's deep voice.

"Obviously," Levina answered in Alicia's peppy voice, stepping out of the lift with Harry at her side. She cast a sympathetic frown after Hermione, who looked utterly horrified as the golden grilles clanged shut.

"What brings you here, Runcorn?" asked the new Minister of Magic. His long black hair and beard were streaked with silver and a great overhanging forehead shadowed his glinting eyes.

"Needed a quick word with," Harry hesitated for a fraction of a second, "Arthur Weasley. Someone said he was up on level one."

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

"No," said Harry, his throat dry. "No, nothing like that."

"Ah, well. It's only a matter of time," said Thicknesse. "If you ask me, the blood traitors are as bad as the Mudbloods. And you, Miss Matthews?"

Levina took a moment to realize he was addressing her. "Oh. Oh! I'm, uh, with him."

Thicknesse looked between them with raised eyebrows. "Ah. I see. So, are you two…?"

Levina blinked, frowning before understanding what he was saying. "No, no! Not like that, no."

The Minister chuckled, nodding. "Oh, good, good. Never wise for a woman like you to be tied down by one man."

Levina laughed weakly. "Exactly. I'm a, um, free spirit."

The Minister smiled in acknowledgement and nodded to both of them. "Good day, Runcorn, Miss Matthews…"

"Good day, Minister."

Levina watched Thicknesse march away along the thickly carpeted corridor. The moment the Minister had passed out of sight, Harry tugged the Invisibility Cloak out from under his heavy black cloak, threw it over himself, and set off along the corridor in the opposite direction, making sure Levina was following suit.

"This Alicia woman seems to be quite the vixen," Levina whispered to Harry, rolling her eyes (though she knew he could not see). She was attempting to lighten the mood, but she was sick to her stomach. They weren't supposed to be in here, and if they were caught…

Harry stopped walking and Levina ran into him with a soft, "oof!" He hissed a "shh!" into her ear hastily. The room was dead quiet, as though a Muffliato charm had been cast, and any sound would most likely alert the others to what was happening.

"Umbridge's office must be up here," Levina whispered back, tugging on Harry's robes.

Harry squeezed her hand in acknowledgement. It seemed most unlikely that Umbridge would keep her jewelry in her office, but on the other hand it seemed foolish not to search it to make sure. They therefore set off along the corridor again, passing nobody but a frowning wizard who was murmuring instructions to a quill that floated in front of him, scribbling on a trail of parchment.

Now paying attention to the names on the doors, they turned a corner. Halfway along the next corridor he emerged into a wide, open space where a dozen witches and wizards sat in rows at small desks not unlike school desks, though much more highly polished and free from graffiti. Levina paused to watch them, for the effect was quite mesmerizing. They were all waving and twiddling their wands in unison, and squares of colored paper were flying in every direction like little pink kites. After a few seconds, she realized that there was a rhythm to the proceedings, that the papers all formed the same pattern and after a few more seconds she realized what she was watching was the creation of pamphlets—that the paper squares were pages, which, when assembled, folded and magicked into place, fell into neat stacks beside each witch or wizard.

Harry crept closer with Levina at his hip, holding hands to make sure they would not become separated. Despite Levina's silent protests, Harry he slid a completed pamphlet from the pile beside a young witch. He examined it beneath the Invisibility Cloak and Levina poked her head under for a look. Its pink cover was emblazoned with a golden title:

Mudbloods and the Dangers They Pose to a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society

Beneath the title was a picture of a red rose with a simpering face in the middle of its petals, being strangled by a green weed with fangs and a scowl. There was no author's name upon the pamphlet, but again, the scars on Levina's arm seemed to tingle as she examined it. She scowled down at the paper, wanting nothing more than to rip it to shreds right then and there. Then the young witch beside Harry confirmed Levina's suspicion as she said, still waving and twirling her wand, "Will the old hag be interrogating Mudbloods all day, does anyone know?"

"Careful," said the wizard beside her, glancing around nervously; one of his pages slipped and fell to the floor.

"What, has she got magic ears as well as an eye, now?"

The witch glanced toward the shining mahogany door facing the space full of pamphlet-makers; Levina looked too, and sudden anger bubbled up in her stomach like mad. Where there might have been a peephole on a Muggle front door, a large, round eye with a bright blue iris had been set into the wood—an eye that was shockingly familiar to anybody who had known Alastor Moody.

In unison, Harry and Levina made their way over to the door, shocked and horrified. Levina tried to suppress a sob that crept its way up her throat. The eye was not moving. It gazed blindly upward, frozen. The plaque beneath it read:

Dolores Umbridge

Senior Undersecretary to the Minister

Below that a slightly shinier new plaque read:

Head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission

Levina glared at the plaque, wanting nothing more than to burn it right then and there. But Harry's hand suddenly let go of hers. She frowned and turned to look where he as standing, bemused. "Harry?" she whispered as softly as she could manage.

A strange object with little waving legs and a rubber-bulbed horn for a body was suddenly placed on the ground from thin air. A Decoy Detonator! Fred had showed her how those worked.

It scuttled away at once through the legs of the witches and wizards in front of him. A few moments later, there came a loud bang and a great deal of acrid smoke billowed from a corner. The young witch in the front row shrieked: Pink pages flew everywhere as she and her fellows jumped up, looking around for the source of the commotion. Harry grabbed Levina's hand again, turned the doorknob, stepped into Umbridge's office with Levina at his side, and closed the door behind them.

"You're mad," Levina breathed, grinning over at him as she undid her color spell. Harry tugged off his cloak and set it aside.

The room was exactly like Umbridge's office at Hogwarts: Lace draperies, doilies and dried flowers covered every surface. The walls bore the same ornamental plates, each featuring a highly colored, beribboned kitten, gamboling and frisking with sickening cuteness. The desk was covered with a flouncy, flowered cloth. Behind Mad-eye's eye, a telescopic attachment enabled Umbridge to spy on the workers on the other side of the door. Harry took a look through it. "They're all still gathered around the Decoy Detonator," he announced. He wrenched the telescope out of the door, leaving a hole behind, pulled the magical eyeball out of it, and placed it in his pocket. The he turned to face the room again, raised his wand, and murmured, "Accio Locket."

Nothing happened.

"Was worth a try," Levina comforted. No doubt Umbridge knew all about protective charms and spells. Harry hurried behind her desk and began pulling open all the drawers. Levina leaned over his shoulder and saw quills and notebooks and Spellotape; enchanted paper clips that coiled snakelike from their drawer and had be beaten back; a fussy little lace box full of spare hair bows and clips; but no sign of a locket. Levina took one of the bows out and clipped it to her hair. "Am I pretty now?"

Harry rolled his eyes. There was a filing cabinet behind the desk: Harry set to searching it. Like Filch's filing cabinet at Hogwarts, it was full of folders, each labeled with a name. Harry rummaged through it a moment as Levina scoped out the office, making sure no one was coming in. "Levina, come here!"

"What is it?" Levina ambled back to his side to examine the folder in his hands:

Arthur Weasley

Blood Status:

Pureblood, but with unacceptable pro-Muggle leanings. Known member of the Order of the Phoenix.

Family:

Wife (pureblood), seven children, two youngest at Hogwarts. NB: Youngest son currently at home, seriously ill, Ministry inspectors have confirmed.

Security Status:

TRACKED. All movements are being monitored. Strong likelihood Undesirable No. 1 and Undesirable No. 2 will contact (has stayed with Weasley family previously)

"Undesirable Number One," Harry muttered under his breath as he replaced Mr. Weasley's folder and shut the drawer.

"Gee, wonder who those could be," Levina mumbled. She wasn't sure why, but the thought of being No. 2 made her bristle. She knew she should be thankful that, in comparison to Harry, she was not as valuable, but at the same time, it hurt a little, knowing she was nearly just another face in the crowd. She straightened up and looked around, only to confirm her suspicions as she saw a poster of herself on the wall, with the words UNDESIRABLE NO. 2 emblazoned across her chest. A poster of Harry sat pinned beside it, reading UNDESIRABLE NO. 1. A little pink note was stuck to each one with a picture of a kitten in the corner. Levina moved across to read the one on hers and saw that Umbridge had written, "To be punished."

"Lovely," said Levina.

Looking angrier than ever, Harry proceeded to grope in the bottoms of the vases and baskets of dried flowers. Levina watched him, knowing it was no use; the locket wasn't here, and they both knew it. She continued to gaze around, trying to look helpful but knowing that it would not be anywhere in the room, and suddenly lost the air in her lungs. Dumbledore was staring at her from a small rectangular mirror, propped up on a bookcase beside the desk.

"Harry!"

Harry turned sharply with raised eyebrows, then followed her gaze to the mirror. He crossed the room at a run and snatched it up. Levina drew closer and peered over his shoulder, only to find that it was a book, not a mirror. In curly green writing across his hat, the book read, "The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore," and in slightly smaller writing across his chest: "by Rita Skeeter, bestselling author of Armando Dippet: Master or Moron?"

Levina grit her teeth and fingered her necklace, trying to remain calm. She was running on very little sleep, very little meat, and very little tolerance. And after all they'd been through today thus far, this just took the cake.

Harry opened the book at random and they saw a full-page photograph of two teenage boys, both laughing immoderately with their arms around each other's shoulders. Dumbledore, now with elbow-length hair, had grown a tiny wispy beard that recalled the one on Krum's chin that had so annoyed Ron. The boy who roared in silent amusement beside Dumbledore had a gleeful, wild look about him. His golden hair fell in curls to his shoulders. Levina wondered whether it was a young Doge, but before she could check the caption, the door of the office opened. Levina jumped and turned, covering her mouth to keep from gasping.

If Thicknesse had not been looking over his shoulder as he entered, Harry would not have had time to pull the Invisibility Cloak over himself and Levina (who could not cast a color charm in so littletime). As it was, they thought Thicknesse might have caught a glimpse of movement, because for a moment or two he remained quite still, staring curiously at the place where Harry and Levina had just vanished. Perhaps deciding that that all he had seen was Dumbledore scratching his nose on the front of the book, for Harry had hastily replaced it upon the shelf, Thicknesse finally walked to the desk and pointed his wand at the quill standing ready in the ink pot. It sprang out and began scribbling a note to Umbridge. Very slowly, hardly daring to breathe, Harry backed out of the office into the open area beyond, holding Levina's hand and guiding her.

The pamphlet-makers were still clustered around the remains of the Decoy Detonator, which continued to hoot feebly as it smoked. Harry and Levina hurried off up the corridor as the young witch said, "I bet it sneaked up here from Experimental Charms, they're so careless, remember that poisonous duck?"

Speeding back toward the lifts, Levina and Harry pulled off the Invisibility Cloak.

"So what the hell are we supposed to do now?" Levina demanded, jumping into the lift with Harry not far behind.

Harry shook his head. "I'm not sure…For starters, though, we need to get Hermione out of the court."

To the enormous relief of both of them, when the lift rattled to a halt at level two, a soaking-wet and wild-eyed Ron got in.

"M-morning," he stammered to them as the lift set off again.

"Ron, it's us, Harry and Levina!"

"Harry, Levina! Blimey, I forgot what you two looked like—why isn't Hermione with you?"

"She had to go down to the courtrooms with Umbridge, she couldn't refuse, and—"

But before Harry could finish the lift had stopped again. The doors opened and Mr. Weasley walked inside, talking to an elderly witch whose blonde hair was teased so high it resembled an anthill.

"...I quite understand what you're saying, Wakanda, but I'm afraid I cannot be party to—"

Mr. Weasley broke off; he had noticed Harry. It was very strange to have Mr. Weasley glare at him with that much dislike. The lift doors closed and the six of them trundled downward once more.

"Oh hello, Reg," said Mr. Weasley, looking around at the sound of steady dripping from Ron's robes. "Isn't your wife in for questioning today? Er –what's happened to you? Why are you so wet?"

"Yaxley's office is raining," said Ron. He addressed Mr. Weasley's shoulder, and Harry felt sure he was scared that his father might recognize him if they looked directly into each other's eyes. "I couldn't stop it, so they've sent me to get Bernie—Pillsworth, I think they said—"

"Yes, a lot of offices have been raining lately," said Mr. Weasley. "Did you try Meterolojinx Recanto? It worked for Bletchley."

"Meteolojinx Recanto?" whispered Ron. "No, I didn't. Thanks, D—I mean, thanks, Arthur."

"Hello, Alicia," said the blond woman, idly fixing her hair. "You look a mess! Where've you been?"

Levina stammered. "Um—just, uh, doing some work with Yaxley. Business-y stuff."

The woman giggled and elbowed Levina in the ribs. "Sure you were. Just 'work.'"

The lift doors opened, much to the flustered Levina's relief; the old witch with the anthill hair left, and Ron darted past her out of sight. Harry and Levina made to follow him, but found their path blocked as Percy Weasley strode into the lift, his nose buried in some papers he was reading.

Not until the doors had clanged shut again did Percy realize he was in a lit with his father. He glanced up, saw Mr. Weasley, turned radish red, and left the lift the moment the doors opened again. For the second time, Harry tried to get out, but this time found his way blocked by Mr. Weasley's arm.

"One moment, Runcorn."

Levina remained behind as well, not wishing to leave Harry alone. She coughed uncomfortably. "We have some business to attend to," she explained to a befuddled-looking Mr. Weasley.

The lift doors closed and as they clanked down another floor, Mr. Weasley said, "I hear you had information about Dirk Cresswell."

"Sorry?" said Harry.

"Don't pretend, Runcorn," said Mr. Weasley fiercely. "You tracked down the wizard who faked his family tree, didn't you?"

"I—so what if I did?" said Harry.

"So Dirk Cresswell is ten times the wizard you are," said Mr. Weasley quietly, as the lift sank ever lower. "And if he survives Azkaban, you'll have to answer to him, not to mention his wife, his sons, and his friends—"

"Arthur," Harry interrupted, "you know you're being tracked, don't you?"

"Is that a threat, Runcorn?" said Mr. Weasley loudly.

"No," said Harry, "it's a fact! They're watching your every move—"

The lift doors opened. They had reached the Atrium. Mr. Weasley gave Harry a scathing look and swept from the lift. Harry stood there, shaken, and Levina patted his shoulder as lift doors clanged shut.

"It's not you," she reminded him.

Harry mumbled an incoherent reply and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak. "We can try to get Hermione on our own while Ron is dealing with the raining office. Put on another color spell." Levina sighed and reluctantly mumbled the charm under her breath; although the spell was simple, doing it so many times in a row was taking a toll on her.

When the doors opened, they stepped out into a torch-lit stone passageway quite different from the wood-paneled and carpeted corridors above. As the left rattled away again, Levina shivered slightly, looking toward the distant black door that marked the entrance to the Department of Mysteries. Not wishing to think about it, she headed to the door on the left hand side, which opened onto the flight of stairs down to the court chambers.

"We still have some Decoy Detonators," Levina suggested, half to herself. "Maybe we could—?"

But a sudden, unnatural chill came over her, creeping up her spine like a dense fog. Each step she took became more and more icy, accompanied by a sense of despair and bleakness.

"Dementors," she breathed, and Harry nodded grimly.

And as they reached the foot of the stairs and turned to their right they saw a dreadful scene. The dark passage outside the courtrooms was packed with tall, black-hooded figures, their faces completely hidden, their ragged breathing the only sound in the place. The petrified Muggle-borns brought in for questioning sat huddled and shivering on hard wooden benches. Most of them were hiding their faces in their hands, perhaps in an instinctive attempt to shield themselves from the dementors' greedy mouths. Some were accompanied by families, others sat alone. The dementors were gliding up and down in front of them.

Levina had to fight off the feeling of drabness creeping into her mind, making her want to turn on her heel and flee from the room right then and there. She couldn't conjure a Patronus, not here…She'd just have to tough it out until they could get Hermione out of there.

Moving through the towering black figures was terrifying: The eyeless faces hidden beneath their hoods turned as she passed, and Levina felt sure that they sensed her, sensed, perhaps, a human presence that still had some hope, some resilience...

And then, abruptly and shockingly amid the frozen silence, one of the dungeon doors on the left of the corridor was flung open and screams echoed out of it.

"No, no, I'm half-blood, I'm half-blood, I tell you! My father was a wizard, he was, look him up, Arkie Alderton, he's a well known broomstick designer, look him up, I tell you—get your hands off me, get your hands off—"

"This is your final warning," said Umbridge's soft voice, magically magnified so that it sounded clearly over the man's desperate screams. "If you struggle, you will be subjected to the Dementor's Kiss."

The man's screams subsided, but dry sobs echoed through the corridor.

"Take him away," said Umbridge.

Two dementors appeared in the doorway of the courtroom, their rotting, scabbed hands clutching the upper arms of a wizard who appeared to be fainting. They glided away down the corridor with him, and the darkness they trailed behind them swallowed him from sight.

Levina had to muster everything she had to not scream right then and there, to not run after the man and offer help.

"Next—Mary Cattermole," called Umbridge.

A small woman stood up; she was trembling from head to foot. Her dark hair was smoothed back into a bun and she wore long plain robes. Her face was completely bloodless. As she passed the dementors, Levina saw her shudder.

Levina moved slowly into the courtroom, splitting from Harry's side. There were more dementors in here, casting their freezing aura over the place; they stood like faceless sentinels in the corners farthest from the high, raised platform. Here, behind a balustrade, sat Umbridge, with Yaxley on one side of her, and Hermione, quite as white-faced as Mrs. Cattermole, on the other. At the foot of the platform, a bight-silver, long-haired cat prowled up and down, up and down, and Levina realized that it was there to protect the prosecutors from the despair that emanated from the dementors: That was for the accused to feel, not the accusers. She curled her lip in disgust. Of course it was a cat. It sickeningly reminded her of Lilypad.

"Sit down," said Umbridge in her soft, silky voice.

Mrs. Cattermole stumbled to the single seat in the middle of the floor beneath the raised platform. The moment she had sat down, chains clinked out of the arms of the chair and bound her there.

"You are Mary Elizabeth Cattermole?" asked Umbridge.

Mrs. Cattermole gave a single, shaky nod.

"Married to Reginald Cattermole of the Magical Maintenance Department?"

Mrs. Cattermole burst into tears.

"I don't know where he is, he was supposed to meet me here!"

Umbridge ignored her.

"Mother to Maisie, Ellie and Alfred Cattermole?"

Mrs. Cattermole sobbed harder than ever.

"They're frightened, they think that I might not come home—"

"Spare us," spat Yaxley. "The brats of Mudbloods do not stir our sympathies."

Levina clenched her hands into fists and edged her way over the center of the room, coming to stand beside Mrs. Cattermole. She wished she could offer her some comfort, a pat on the shoulder even—but she knew she could not give herself away.

In the stands, Hermione suddenly jumped so violently she nearly overturned the bottle of ink with which she was supposed to be recording the interview, but both Umbridge and Yaxley were concentrating upon Mrs. Cattermole, and this went unnoticed. Levina squinted. Harry was probably behind her, she figured.

"A wand was taken from you upon your arrival at the Ministry today, Mrs. Cattermole," Umbridge was saying. "Eight-and-three-quarter inches, cherry, unicorn-hair core. Do you recognize the description?"

Mrs. Cattermole nodded, mopping her eyes on her sleeve.

"Could you please tell us from which witch or wizard you took that wand?"

"T-took?" sobbed Mrs. Cattermole. "I didn't t-take it from anybody. I b-bought it when I was eleven years old. It—it – it—chose me."

She cried harder than ever.

Umbridge laughed a soft girlish laugh and Levina had to plant her feet hard on the ground to keep from lunging at her. She leaned forward over the barrier, the better to observe her victim, and something gold swung forward too, and dangled over the void: the locket.

Hermione had seen it; she let out a little squeak, but Umbridge and Yaxley, still intent upon their prey, were deaf to everything else. Levina's eyes lit up as she gazed upon it. How could she get it from her? Using Accio? It hadn't worked in her office, but it hadn't been in there…And besides, it would draw too much attention.

"No," said Umbridge, "no, I don't think so, Mrs. Cattermole. Wands only choose witches or wizards. You are not a witch. I have your responses to the questionnaire that was sent to you here—Mafalda, pass them to me."

Umbridge held out a small hand. Hermione's hands were shaking with shock. She fumbled in a pile of documents balanced on the chair beside her, finally withdrawing a sheaf of parchment with Mrs. Cattermole's name on it.

"That's—that's pretty, Dolores," she said, pointing at the pendant gleaming in the ruffled folds of Umbridge's blouse.

"What?" snapped Umbridge, glancing down. "Oh yes—an old family heirloom," she said, patting the locket lying on her large bosom. "The S stands for Selwyn...I am related to the Selwyns...Indeed, there are few pure-blood families to whom I am not related...A pity," she continued in a louder voice, flicking through Mrs. Cattermole's questionnaire, "that the same cannot be said for you. 'Parents professions: greengrocers'."

Yaxley laughed jeeringly. Below, the fluffy silver cat patrolled up and down, and the dementors stood waiting in the corners. Levina bit her tongue so hard that it bled. The anger inside her was at a boiling point, and she could not hold herself back any longer. However, just as she drew her wand and took aim, a deep voice yelled, "Stupefy!"

There was a flash of red light; Umbridge crumpled and her forehead hit the edge of the balustrade: Mrs. Cattermole's papers slid off her lap onto the floor and, down below, the prowling silver cat vanished. Ice-cold air hit them like an oncoming wind: Yaxley, confused, looked around for the source of the trouble and saw Harry's disembodied hand and wand pointing at him. He tried to draw his own wand, but too late: Levina yelled, "Stupefy!"

Yaxley slid to the ground to lie curled on the floor.

"Harry!"

"Hermione, if you think I was going to sit here and let her pretend—"

"Harry, Mrs. Cattermole!"

Harry whirled around, throwing off the Invisibility Cloak; down below, the dementors had moved out of their corners; they were gliding toward the woman chained to the chair: Whether because the Patronus had vanished or because they sensed that their masters were no longer in control, they seemed to have abandoned restraint. Mrs. Cattermole let out a terrible scream of fear as a slimy, scabbed hand grasped her chin and forced her face back.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry and Levina yelled in perfect sync.

A silver stag and wolf stag soared from the tips of their wands and leaped toward the dementors, which fell back and melted into the dark shadows again. The light from the two patronus' cast a much larger light than the cat's, forcing the dementors away.

"Get the Horcrux," Harry told Hermione.

He ran back down the steps, stuffing the Invisibility Cloak into his bag, and approached Mrs. Cattermole.

"You?" she whispered, gazing into his face. "But—but Reg said you were the one who submitted my name for questioning!"

"Did I?" muttered Harry, tugging at the chains binding her arms, "Well, I've had a change of heart. You don't have a key by any chance, do you, Levina?"

"Nope. Try Diffindo!" Levina suggested.

"Diffindo!" Nothing happened. "Hermione, how do I get rid of these chains?"

"Wait, I'm trying something up here—"

"Hermione, we're surrounded by dementors!"

"I know that, Harry, but if she wakes up and the locket's gone—I need to duplicate it—Geminio! There... That should fool her..."

Hermione came running downstairs.

"Let's see...Relashio!"

The chains clinked and withdrew into the arms of the chair. Mrs. Cattermole looked just as frightened as ever before.

"I don't understand," she whispered.

"You're going to leave here with us," said Harry, pulling her to her feet. "Go home, grab your children, and get out, get out of the country if you've got to. Disguise yourselves and run. You've seen how it is, you won't get anything like a fair hearing here."

"Harry," said Hermione, "how are we going to get out of here with all those dementors outside the door?"

"Patronuses," said Harry, pointing his wand at his own. The stag slowed and walked, still gleaming brightly, toward the door The wolf followed suit, trotting happily behind the stag in gleeful bounds. "As many as we can muster; do yours, Hermione."

"Expecto—Expecto patronum," said Hermione. Nothing happened.

"Aw, come on! Happy thoughts, Hermione!" Levina insisted, removing her color spell.

"It's the only spell she ever has trouble with," Harry told a completely bemused Mrs. Cattermole. "Bit unfortunate, really... Come on Hermione..."

"Expecto patronum!"

A silver otter burst from the end of Hermione's wand and swam gracefully through the air to join the stag and the wolf.

"C'mon," said Harry, and he led Hermione, Levina, and Mrs. Cattermole to the door.

When the Patronuses glided out of the dungeon there were cries of shock from the people waiting outside. Levina looked around; the dementors were falling back on both sides of them, melding into the darkness, scattering before the silver creatures.

"It's been decided that you should all go home and go into hiding with your families," Harry told the waiting Muggle-born, who were dazzled by the light of the Patronuses and still cowering slightly. "Go abroad if you can. Just get well away from the Ministry. That's the—er—new official position. Now, if you'll just follow the Patronuses, you'll be able to leave the Atrium."

They managed to get up the stone stops without being intercepted. A moment later, the lift clanked to a halt in front of them.

"Reg!" screamed Mrs. Cattermole, and she threw herself into Ron's arms. "Runcorn let me out, he attacked Umbridge and Yaxley, and he's told all of us to leave the country. I think we'd better do it, Reg, I really do, let's hurry home and fetch the children and—why are you so wet?"

"Water," muttered Ron, disengaging himself. "Harry, they know there are intruders inside the Ministry, something about a hole in Umbridge's office door. I reckon we've got five minutes if that—"

Hermione's Patronus vanished with a pop as she turned a horror struck face to Harry. The wolf nudged Levina affectionately, as though asking what was going on.

"Harry, if we're trapped here—!"

"We won't be if we move fast," said Harry. He addressed the silent group behind them, who were all gawping at him.

"Who's got wands?"

About half of them raised their hands.

"Okay, all of you who haven't got wands need to attach yourself to somebody who has. We'll need to be fast before they stop us. Come on."

They managed to cram themselves into two lifts. The stag and wolf patronus stood behind, watching them leave.

"Level eight," said the witch's cool voice, "Atrium."

Uh-oh. The Atrium was full of people moving from fireplace to fireplace, sealing them off; just stepping into the room would alert everyone in there to what was going on.

"Shit!" Levina swore.

"Harry!" squeaked Hermione. "What are we going to—?"

"STOP!" Harry thundered, and the powerful voice of Runcorn echoed through the Atrium: The wizards sealing the fireplaces froze. "Follow me," he whispered to the group of terrified Muggle-borns, who moved forward in a huddle, shepherded by Ron, Levina, and Hermione.

"What's up, Albert?" said the same balding wizard who had followed Harry out of the fireplace earlier. He looked nervous.

"This lot need to leave before you seal the exits," said Harry with all the authority he could muster.

The group of wizards in front of him looked at one another.

"We've been told to seal all exits and not let anyone—"

"Are you contradicting me?" Harry blustered. "Would you like me to have your family tree examined, like I had Dirk Cresswell's?"

"Sorry!" gasped the balding wizard, backing away. "I didn't mean nothing, Albert, but I thought... I thought they were in for questioning and..."

"Their blood is pure," said Harry, and his deep voice echoed impressively through the hall. "Purer than many of yours, I daresay. Off you go," he boomed to the Muggle-borns, who scurried forward into the fireplaces and began to vanish in pairs. Levina ushered the remaining ones out, taking care to make sure they were all gone. The Ministry wizards hung back, some looking confused, others scared and fearful. Then:

"Mary!"

Mrs. Cattermole looked over her shoulder. The real Reg Cattermole, no longer vomiting but pale and wan, had just come running out of a lift.

"R-Reg?"

She looked from her husband to Ron, who swore loudly.

The balding wizard gaped, his head turning ludicrously from one Reg Cattermole to the other.

"Hey—what's going on? What is this?"

"Seal the exit! SEAL IT!"

Yaxley had burst out of another lift and was running toward the group beside the fireplaces, into which all of the Muggle-borns but Mrs. Cattermole had now vanished. As the balding wizard lifted his wand, Harry raised an enormous fist and punched him, sending him flying through the air. Levina stared at him in open-mouthed shock. "Are you crazy—?"

"He's been helping Muggle-borns escape, Yaxley!" Harry shouted.

The balding wizard's colleagues set up an uproar, under cover of which Ron grabbed Mrs. Cattermole, pulled her into the still-open fireplace, and disappeared. Confused, Yaxley looked from Harry to the punched wizard, while the real Reg Cattermole screamed, "My wife! Who was that with my wife? What's going on?"

Harry saw Yaxley's head turn, saw an inkling of truth dawn on that brutish face.

"Come on!" Harry shouted at Hermione and Levina; he seized their hands and they jumped into the fireplace together as Yaxley's curse sailed over Levina's head. They spun for a few seconds before shooting up out of a toilet into a cubicle. Harry flung open the door: Ron was standing there beside the sinks, still wrestling with Mrs. Cattermole.

"Reg, I don't understand—"

"Let go, I'm not your husband, you've got to go home!"

There was a noise in the cubicle behind them; Harry looked around; Yaxley had just appeared.

"LET'S GO!" Harry yelled. He seized Hermione by the hand (she took Levina's other hand in hers) and Ron by the arm and turned on the stop.

Darkness engulfed them, along with the sensation of compressing hands, but something was wrong... Hermione's hand seemed to be sliding out of her grip…Levina held on as tightly as she could, but she could feel her grasp loosening by the minute.

Levina felt as though she were drowning, the world spinning around her like a merry-go-round and only the feeling of Hermione's clammy hand in hers for comfort.

And then she saw the door to number twelve, Grimmauld Place, with its serpent door knocker, but before she could so much as breathe a sigh of relief, there was a scream and a flash of purple light: Hermione's hand was suddenly vicelike upon hers and everything went dark again.

…

As promised, another chapter for you! Two in one day? Wow, this girl really must want to apologize! Right? …Right? Okay, just accept my humble offering and move on…