Pretty Kitty (completed)

Chapter 39

Ginny promptly gathered Neville and Luna, although Harry was never entirely certain how she produced Luna from nowhere.

No-one had to explain the plan; they all instinctively knew. Ginny produced a packet of dung bombs and dragged Neville down a random corridor, calling out for Peeves along the way. Hermione, Ron, Luna and Harry headed for Umbridge's office.

"Quick, under here," Harry mumbled, gathering Hermione, Ron and himself under his invisibility cloak. On the Marauder's map, Umbridge was striding about her office. Ginny, Neville and Peeves were gathered on the fourth floor, until suddenly, they all dispersed, Ginny and Neville heading towards them and Peeves floating off in a random direction to cause more chaos.

"Now," Harry whispered. Luna ran to the door of Umbridge's office and knocked frantically before entering. A moment later, Umbridge appeared and set off down the corridor briskly, looking harried.

Harry and Ron ran into Umbridge's office and Harry grabbed the floo pot over the roaring fire. Ron closed the door, breathing heavily, freckles stark against his pale face.

"Hurry up, Harry," he mumbled. Harry sent him a reassuring grin and then chucked the powder in the fire.

"The Burrow!" Harry called out and, after taking a steadying breath, stuck his head into the green flames, cat ears flattening against his head as if to avoid the licking fire.

Harry was entirely certain he would never get used to the sensation of his head moving through the floo network while the rest of his body stayed firmly in another place. He was relieved when the swirling stopped and the Burrow swam into view.

Harry closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly, suddenly not wanting to look. Not wanting to see if his vision was true. He'd been going through the motions and not thinking about what would happen if Fred and George really had been caught by Voldemort.

But now it was crunch time.

Knowing he had little time, he opened his eyes and looked around the room. The Burrow was eerily silent. "Mrs Weasley?" he called out hesitantly.

There was no reply and no movement. "Mr Weasley?" he called out louder. "Fred? George?"

But there was no one in the Burrow.

Harry cast his eyes about, wondering desperately how to find out if Fred and George were in danger. He didn't have time to floo Grimmauld Place and find out if they were there or if anyone knew where they were.

Something glinted out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and saw it was the light reflecting off the family clock hung on the wall. He was about to turn his gaze away again when he remembered. That clock didn't tell the time.

"Fred and George," he whispered frantically, scanning for the hands of the twins. He finally found them, pointed at a status no other family member was.

Mortal Peril.

Harry hardly time to process it, to realise he had been right. There had been the hope that he was wrong, it was a fake vision just to scare him. But he'd been right all along. Fred and George were in the hands of Voldemort.

Suddenly, Ginny and Ron's hands began moving. Harry's eyebrows furrowed, and then he gasped as he realised just where they were headed. To the same place Fred and George's hands were already positioned.

Hands grabbed his body, and Harry was yanked from the fireplace, spluttering and coughing up soot. A kick to the side made him gasp again and open his tightly squeezed shut eyes, and he looked up into the sneering face of Draco Malfoy.

Eyes wide, he looked around and saw the rest of his friends captured by Umbridge's Slytherin thugs. Ron gave him an apologetic look from Crabbe's arms, mouth muffled over. Harry had no doubt that Ron had shown them just how foul his mouth really was.