Phoenix

Inside the Ministry

The Ministry had a strange way of getting in. You had to step into a toilet and flush yourself down and into the ministry. We flushed right into the heart of the Ministry. I looked around until I spotted Harry and Ron. I pointed them out to Hermione and we headed over.

"You got in all right, then?"Hermione whispered to Harry.

"No, he's still stuck in the bog,"said Ron.

"Oh, very funny ... it's horrible, isn't it?"she said to Harry, who was staring up at the statue. "Have you seen what they're sitting on?"

I glanced at the statue in question and realized it was made of mounds of carved humans: hundreds and hundreds of naked bodies, men, women and children, all with rather stupid, ugly faces, twisted and pressed together to support the weight of the handsomely robed wizards.

I shuddered as a wave of anger coursed through my body.

"Muggles,"whispered Hermione. "In their rightful place. Come on, let's get going."

We joined the stream of witches and wizards moving towards the golden gates at the end of the hall, looking around as surreptitiously as possible, but there was no sign of the distinctive figure of Dolores Umbridge. We passed through the gates and into a smaller hall, where queues were forming in front of twenty golden grilles housing as many lifts. They had barely joined the nearest one when a voice said, "Cattermole!"

We looked around: My stomach turned over. One of the Death Eaters who had witnessed Dumbledore's death was striding towards them. The Ministry workers beside them fell silent, their eyes downcast; I could feel fear rippling through them. The man's scowling, slightly brutish face was somehow at odds with his magnificent, sweeping robes, which were embroidered with much gold thread.

"I requested somebody from Magical Maintenance to sort out my office, Cattermole. It's still raining in there."

Ron looked around as though hoping somebody else would intervene, but nobody spoke.

"Raining ... in your office? That's – that's not good, is it?" Ron gave a nervous laugh.

I sighed and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Why were all my friends so bad at undercover work?

Yaxley's eyes widened. "You think it's funny, Cattermole, do you?"

A pair of witches broke away from the queue for the lift and bustled off.

"No," said Ron, "no, of course –"

"You realise that I am on my way downstairs to interrogate your wife, Cattermole? In fact, I'm quite surprised you're not down there holding her hand while she waits. Already given her up as a bad job, have you? Probably wise. Be sure and marry a pure-blood next time."

Hermione had let out a little squeak of horror. Yaxley looked at her. She coughed feebly and turned away.

"I – I –"stammered Ron.

"But if my wife were accused of being a Mudblood," said Yaxley, '– not that any woman I married would ever be mistaken for such filth – and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement needed a job doing, I would make it my priority to do that job, Cattermole. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," whispered Ron.

"Then attend to it, Cattermole, and if my office is not completely dry within an hour your wife's Blood Status will be in even graver doubt than it is now."

The golden grille before them clattered open. With a nod and unpleasant smile to Harry, who was evidently expected to appreciate this treatment of Cattermole, Yaxley swept away towards another lift. We entered ours, but nobody followed us. it was as if we were infectious. The grilles shut with a clang and the lift began to move upwards.

"What am I going to do?" Ron asked the at once; he looked stricken. "If I don't turn up, my wife – I mean, Cattermole's wife—"

"We'll come with you, we should stick together –"began Harry, but Ron shook his head feverishly.

"That's mental, we haven't got much time. You two find Umbridge, I'll go and sort out Yaxley's office – but how do I stop it raining?"

"Try Finite Incantatem," said Hermione at once, "that should stop the rain if it's a hex or curse; if it doesn't, something's gone wrong with an Atmospheric Charm, which will be more difficult to fix, so as an interim measure try Impervius to protect his belongings —"

"Say it again, slowly –"said Ron, searching his quill.

"This won't work," I said, quickly assessing the situation. "Hermione, go with Ron. The last thing we want is someone to die because we were stupid. I'll stay with Harry. As long as we are in pairs we should be fine."

Nobody had any time to argue because a disembodied female voice said, "Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office and Pest Advisory Bureau," and the grilles slid open again, admitting a couple of wizards and several pale violet paper aeroplanes that fluttered around the lamp in the ceiling of the lift.

"Morning Albert," said a bushily whiskered man, smiling at Harry.

The wizard leaned towards Harry, leering, and muttered, "Dirk Cresswell, eh? From Goblin Liaison? Nice one, Albert. I'm pretty confident I'll get his job, now!"

He winked. Harry smiled back. The lift stopped; the grilles opened once more.

"Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, includ- ing the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamot Administration Services," said the disembodied witch's voice.

I saw Hermione give Ron a little push and they both hurried out of the lift, followed by the other wizards, leaving Harry and I alone.

"Level One, Minister for Magic and Support Staff."
The golden grilles slid apart again and set my jaw. I tapped Harry's shoulder and tilted my head towards the four people standing before us. a long-haired wizard wearing magnificent robes of black and gold and a squat, toad-like witch wearing a velvet bow in her short hair and clutching a clipboard to her chest.

|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^|^
Hey Everyone, hope you enjoy the update? How are you all doing?

Forever and always,

Me.