"Sirius is being tortured NOW!" shouted Harry. "We haven't got time to waste."
"But if this is a trick of Voldemort's, Harry, we've got to check. We've got to."
"How?" Harry demanded. "How're we going to check?"
Hermione, who had turned towards Ginny and Luna, froze, as though suddenly in the middle of an OWL examination, having forgotten the right answer. Harry opened his mouth to demand that she spit it out or let him go to the Department of Mysteries, but did not get the chance.
"The package," said Hermione, her voice as dreamy as Luna's had been just a moment ago. "The package Sirius gave you, Harry. You told us he gave you something you could use to contact him."
Harry stared at her in disbelief. Didn't she understand that Sirius couldn't use whatever it was? Voldemort was torturing him! "It's in my trunk," he said. "But it'll be useless. We're wasting time."
"I was going to suggest that we use Umbridge's fire to call Grimmauld Place," said Hermione, drawing herself up. "But there's no need to risk it if you can use whatever's in the package. If Sirius doesn't answer, we'll know that your... dream was real." And she fixed him with such a McGonagallish stare that Harry knew it was no use arguing with her, though anger and impatience boiled in him like something from one of Neville's cauldrons.
"Fine," he said, "Let's try it. But if it doesn't work, I'm going straight to London. I'm going to save Sirius and I don't care if you think I'm just acting the hero again."
The five of them picked their way through the crowds, up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, and Harry ignored the outraged yells when people saw Luna drifting behind Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny through the Gryffindor common room.
Harry flew to his dormitory, two stairs at a time. He wrenched open his trunk and began to rummage, throwing his belongings to the floor. A Weasley jumper... broken Sneakoscope... three snapped quills... His fingers hit stiff paper, and Harry pulled the package out of the trunk. He ripped the brown packaging away, revealing a small, square mirror, grimy and old.
Hermione let out a small noise. "It's a two-way mirror, Harry!" she whispered breathlessly. "You've got to say Sirius's name into it."
Harry turned the mirror over and saw a note stuck to the reverse side: in Sirius's fast scribble, it told him what Hermione just had, also adding that Harry's father and Sirius used to use them when they were in separate detentions.
Harry gripped the mirror in both hands. Ron, Ginny, and Hermione huddled round him whilst Luna seemed to be performing some sort of interpretive dance by the open window.
"Sirius," said Harry. "Sirius Black." He almost choked on Sirius's name, and even while hoping that Sirius's eyes would appear at any moment, he doubted it would happen. Those eyes were closed with pain right now, and if anything happened to Sirius...
How would you even get to London?
asked Hermione's voice in his head. Harry wondered if Hagrid had any more Hippogriffs hidden away. Or even a dragon. Harry wasn't going to be picky. He'd summon his broom from the dungeon if he had to, Umbridge be damned.
"Look, Harry," said Hermione. "Something's moving." Her breath left a trace of fog on the mirror's dark surface.
"That might not mean anything," said Harry, not daring to hope -- it might be Lupin for all he knew. He might've found the mirror discarded on Sirius's desk, unaware that Sirius had been lured out of Grimmauld Place and was now suffering the Cruciatus Curse. All because of Harry.
"See? He's not there. He's not
there
. We've wasted enough time--"
