Chapter 304: Filch's Help and Going to the Ministry
Harry pulled his head back from the green flames, his eyes completely bloodshot with panic and desperation.
"Hermione, I have to get to the Ministry immediately! Sirius has been captured!" Harry said frantically, his voice cracking with urgency.
"We're going with you!" Hermione declared without hesitation, making the decision for all of them.
"No, you need to stay at school. I can handle this myself," Harry protested, breaking free from Hermione's concerned grasp as he prepared to leave alone.
But Hermione's palm connected sharply with his cheek, the sound echoing through Umbridge's pink office. "When will you finally realise that we're partners in this fight!"
"Indeed you are," came a sickeningly sweet voice from the doorway.
A limping toad-like figure blocked the office entrance, with Inquisitorial Squad members behind her pointing their wands threateningly at Ron, Luna, and Ginny as they were roughly forced inside.
Harry found himself seized by Umbridge's stubby fingers and pressed forcefully into a chair in the centre of her gaudy office.
"Start talking," Umbridge commanded, looking like a predator savouring her captured prey.
"About what?" Harry replied, feigning ignorance despite his racing heart.
"Your plan to attack the Ministry—and where that deranged Dumbledore and that traitorous bastard Prewett are hiding!" Umbridge grabbed Harry by his shirt collar and roared directly into his face, her breath reeking of cough drops and malice.
"Acting Headmistress, why did you summon me?" Professor Snape's cold voice cut through the tension as he entered the office with his usual dramatic flair.
"Oh, dear Severus, I wanted to ask if you still have any Veritaserum available. We have some troublesome little thieves here," Umbridge said sweetly, lifting Harry's chin with the tip of her wand.
"I'm terribly sorry, but my entire supply of Veritaserum has been completely exhausted," Snape replied with practised indifference. "I used it all on the young wizards that Marietta confessed about. Enough doses for ten people, as you requested."
Snape reminded her with barely concealed satisfaction. "Oh, unless you'd prefer me to poison him instead, which I assure you I would be absolutely delighted to do."
Using his Occlumency skills, Snape created an expression of eager anticipation that would have been terrifying under other circumstances.
"Oh, that simply won't do," Umbridge said with obvious regret. "Things are far too politically sensitive right now. We can't afford to have any suspicious deaths on our hands."
Snape nodded curtly and turned to leave without another word, his black robes billowing behind him.
"Since there's no Veritaserum readily available, I suppose I'll have to resort to the Cruciatus Curse instead," Umbridge announced with casual cruelty. "I'm certain dear Cornelius will understand the necessity under these circumstances."
She stepped forward and deliberately turned Fudge's smiling photograph face down on her cluttered desk. Drawing her wand with theatrical menace, deep red light began flickering ominously at its tip.
"Harry, tell her whatever she wants to know," Hermione started to plead desperately when the office door suddenly burst open.
"Argus?" Umbridge looked with surprise at the unexpected newcomer.
Filch stood silently in the doorway, his usual hunched posture somehow different, more confident than anyone had ever seen him.
"Is there something you need?" Faced with Filch's uncharacteristic silence, Umbridge continued her inquiry with growing impatience.
"Nothing at all, ma'am," Filch replied with an oddly respectful bow.
"Excellent. Now then," Umbridge nodded dismissively and turned her attention back to Harry's interrogation.
"Expelliarmus!" A powerful spell shot out from directly behind Umbridge's position.
The disarming charm struck the office ceiling like brilliant lightning, then split into six separate beams that knocked away all the wands belonging to Umbridge and her Inquisitorial Squad members.
Everyone present stared in complete bewilderment at this impossible turn of events.
"A converter!" Umbridge's bulging eyes filled with horror and recognition.
"Come quickly now," Filch called urgently to Harry and the others, and they hurried to his side without hesitation.
Filch pulled out a weathered cowboy hat and placed it confidently on his head. A gleaming monocle hung from the outside pocket of his brown leather jacket, giving him an unexpectedly distinguished appearance.
This transformed Filch radiated complete self-assurance. No longer was he the bitter old Squib who used harsh words to protect himself around the school, but a fully capable wizard who had finally come into his own power.
"Mr Prewett specifically asked me to give you his warmest regards," Filch said, his weathered lips curving into a slight but genuine smile.
"You treacherous..." Umbridge snarled, lunging desperately toward her fallen wand.
Unfortunately for her, she wasn't nearly fast enough to match Filch's newfound abilities. Six expertly cast Stunning Spells struck with perfect precision, knocking out Umbridge and all the other Inquisitorial Squad members before they could recover their weapons.
"Filch, how is this even possible?" Hermione asked, her eyes blazing with intense curiosity and amazement.
Due to the Ministry's strict information blockade, very few people knew about Mrs Figg's dramatic transformation at the Ministry tribunal that day. Knowledge about converters remained restricted to only a handful of individuals in the wizarding world, so Hermione was absolutely fascinated by Filch's sudden ability to cast complex magic.
"Mr Prewett gave me very specific instructions before his departure to protect all the young wizards remaining at school," Filch explained with obvious pride in his new purpose.
"Aiden!" Harry exclaimed, catching the most important detail. "Can you contact him somehow?"
"I'm deeply sorry, but I cannot," Filch replied, shaking his head regretfully. "After Mr Prewett left the castle, he seems to have locked away his prayer words so that even we cannot locate him."
"Prayer words?" Ron spoke up, feeling completely overwhelmed by all this mysterious new information.
"Well, I still need to properly deal with Umbridge and her associates," Filch said briskly, not revealing any additional secrets.
He went back into the office to levitate the unconscious Umbridge with a practised spell, then headed purposefully toward the Forbidden Forest to dispose of the evidence.
The six students looked at each other with a mixture of relief and uncertainty, until Neville stepped forward to address the obvious question.
"So then, how exactly do we get to London from here?"
"I'm grateful to all of you for wanting to help, but perhaps I should walk the rest of this dangerous path alone," Harry said quietly, attempting to brush past the other five.
"Dumbledore's Army was specifically established to fight Voldemort and his followers!" Neville declared firmly, grabbing Harry's arm to prevent his departure.
"Perhaps you don't have to face this nightmare by yourself, mate," Ron added with newfound determination.
Harry considered their words for a long moment, then asked practically, "So how should we actually get to London?"
"By flying, of course," everyone replied with matching grins of excitement.
They ran quickly to the area where Hagrid kept his tamed Thestrals, selected several of the strongest-looking creatures, and took to the skies toward London's distant lights.
After a harrowing flight through the night air, they landed near the red telephone booth strategically positioned between Parliament and Downing Street. They even boldly marked "rescue mission" on the official visitor badges issued at the heavily guarded entrance.
Descending level by level through the Ministry's elaborate security systems, they finally reached the ninth floor underground. They passed through the complex circular hall with its spinning doors, navigated an extremely long corridor lined with flickering torches, and at last arrived at their destination.
Harry finally reached the mysterious room at the end of the corridor that had haunted his dreams for weeks. He pushed open the heavy door with trembling hands and discovered countless shelves filled with softly glowing prophecy orbs stretching into the darkness.
According to his vivid dream memories, Harry made his way to Row 95. He looked desperately left and right but found absolutely no sign of Sirius anywhere in the vast chamber.
"He should be here!" Harry insisted, sensing that something was terribly wrong with this entire situation.
But a particular prophecy orb nearby suddenly caught his attention with its pulsing light, and he reached out instinctively to grasp it in his hands.
His connection to the collective unconscious sea was infinitely amplified by the magical artefact, and he heard millions of voices speaking the ancient prophecy through Professor Trelawney's distinctive tone:
'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... The Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal. But he has power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives.'
While Harry remained completely immersed in the overwhelming prophecy, Hermione's urgent voice called him back to dangerous reality.
"Harry!"
Harry spun around to see a black-robed Death Eater approaching them with predatory confidence. The Death Eater removed his silver mask with theatrical flair, revealing the aristocratic features of Lucius Malfoy.
"You really should learn to distinguish between dreams and reality, Potter," Lucius said with obvious condescension. "What you witnessed was merely what the Dark Lord specifically wanted you to see!"
Lucius continued his villain monologue for reasons known only to himself, then commanded with authority, "Now give me that prophecy immediately."
"If you do anything to hurt me or my friends, I'll smash it to pieces!" Harry threatened, raising the glowing orb above his head.
"Ha! Look how quickly he learns to negotiate. What an absolutely lovely child," came a voice filled with dangerous madness from the shadows.
"Bellatrix Lestrange!" Neville shouted with recognition, drawing his wand and pointing it directly at the escaped prisoner.
"Oh, dear little Longbottom," Bellatrix crooned with mock sweetness. "I remember you're pure-blood too, just like your dear parents. Tell me, how are they doing these days?"
"I think they're going to be just fine!" Neville declared defiantly.
He raised his wand to cast a spell, but Harry quickly reached out to stop him, recognising the trap they had all walked into.