THE LOST DOG ' s. black

[24] trapped

   THE walls of Umbridge's office felt like they were closing in on me. The cold, sterile atmosphere, the oppressive pink decor, and the faint hum of the portraits murmuring overhead were almost unbearable. My mind was still racing, my heart a hammering mess as I sat slumped in one of the hard wooden chairs along with Ron and Hermione. The others were scattered throughout the room—caught, detained, and waiting for whatever fate Umbridge had planned for us.

I hadn’t said much since we were dragged in here. My thoughts were a chaotic mess, swirling between Marietta’s betrayal, the fact that we were all going to be punished, and the creeping sense that something far worse was coming for all of us. But it wasn’t just fear of Umbridge that weighed on me. There was something else, something gnawing at me from the inside, like a warning I couldn’t quite place.

Suddenly, I was pulled from my thoughts by the sound of Harry’s voice, his voice low and strained, like he was fighting against something invisible.

"I don’t know," he muttered, his hands trembling as he gripped the edge of the chair. His face was pale, and his eyes were wide, lost in a far-off space as if he was seeing something none of us could.

"Sirius," Harry said, the word barely a whisper. His voice was thick with panic, a frantic edge creeping into his tone that made my stomach drop. "Sirius is in danger."

The words didn’t fully register at first. I stared at Harry, trying to understand, but the words hit me like a cold slap to the face. My mind couldn’t process it.

"Sirius?" I repeated, my voice shaky. "Which Sirius?"

Harry didn’t answer right away. His breathing was shallow, and his hands were shaking violently, as if he couldn’t stop the tremors racing through him. His face was ashen, beads of sweat already beginning to form along his brow, and I could see the fear in his eyes. This wasn’t just some vision, some feeling. It was real.

"Our Sirius," Harry whispered, his voice cracking, his gaze turning toward the floor like he couldn’t bear to meet anyone’s eyes. "He’s in trouble. I—I can feel it. Something’s wrong. He’s in danger, Eloise."

My heart seemed to stop, and I felt like the room itself was spinning. My thoughts were jumbled, but the one thing I could focus on was the cold fear creeping into my chest. Sirius—my Sirius—was in trouble? But how? Where? Why?

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could get a word out, the sharp, sneering voice of Draco Malfoy cut through the tension.

"Cut the dramatic act, Potter," Draco called out from where he stood near the door, his arms crossed as he leaned against the frame. His expression was one of pure disdain, his face twisted in an almost gleeful sneer. "We’re all stuck here. We’ve got bigger things to worry about than your heroic stupidity."

He took a few steps into the room, pulling Harry up from his chair harshly by the arm. Harry stumbled but didn’t resist, his expression still distant and pale. "You think we care about whatever nonsense you're trying to sell us? Just shut up."

I could feel the anger building inside me, the urge to jump up and slap that smug look off Draco’s face. But before I could, Ron, Hermione, and I all stood as one, eyes locked on Harry, who seemed to be struggling to regain his composure.

"Sirius," I muttered, my voice tight with frustration. "Harry, are you sure? How do you know?"

Harry’s hands were still trembling as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, his jaw clenched with the weight of what he had seen. "I don’t know, Eloise," he whispered hoarsely. "But I can’t ignore it. He’s in trouble. I just—I know it."