Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

The black shape on the floor shifted a little. Harry saw a long-fingered white hand clutching a wand rise at the end of his own arm… heard the high, cold voice say “Crucio!”

The man on the floor let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand but fell back, writhing. Harry was laughing. He raised his wand, the curse lifted and the figure groaned and became motionless.

“Lord Voldemort is waiting—”

Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was bloodstained and gaunt, twisted in pain yet rigid with defiance…

“You’ll have to kill me,” whispered Sirius.

“Undoubtedly I shall in the end,” said the cold voice. “But you will fetch it for me first, Black… you think you have felt pain thus far? Think again… we have hours ahead of us and nobody to hear you scream…”

But somebody screamed as Voldemort lowered his wand again; somebody yelled and fell sideways off a hot desk on to the cold stone floor; Harry awoke as he hit the ground, still yelling, his scar on fire, as the Great Hall erupted all around him.

32. OUT OF THE FIRE

“I’m not going… I don’t need the hospital wing… I don’t want—”

He was gibbering as he tried to pull away from Professor Tofty, who was looking at Harry with much concern after helping him out into the Entrance Hall with the students all around them staring.

“I’m—I’m fine, sir,” Harry stammered, wiping the sweat from his face. “Really… I just fell asleep… had a nightmare…”

“Pressure of examinations!” said the old wizard sympathetically, patting Harry shakily on the shoulder. “It happens, young man, it happens! Now, a cooling drink of water, and perhaps you will be ready to return to the Great Hall? The examination is nearly over, but you may be able to round off your last answer nicely?”

“Yes,” said Harry wildly. “I mean… no… I’ve done—done as much as I can, I think…”

“Very well, very well,” said the old wizard gently. “I shall go and collect your examination paper and I suggest that you go and have a nice lie down.”

“I’ll do that,” said Harry, nodding vigorously. “Thanks very much.”

The second that the old man’s heels disappeared over the threshold into the Great Hall, Harry ran up the marble staircase, hurtled along the corridors so fast the portraits he passed muttered reproaches, up more flights of stairs, and finally burst like a hurricane through the double doors of the hospital wing, causing Madam Pomfrey—who had been spooning some bright blue liquid into Montague’s open mouth—to shriek in alarm.

“Potter, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I need to see Professor McGonagall,” gasped Harry, the breath tearing his lungs. “Now… it’s urgent!”

“She’s not here, Potter,” said Madam Pomfrey sadly. “She was transferred to St. Mungo’s this morning. Four Stunning Spells straight to the chest at her age? It’s a wonder they didn’t kill her.”

“She’s… gone?” said Harry, shocked.

The bell rang just outside the dormitory and he heard the usual distant rumbling of students starting to flood out into the corridors above and below him. He remained quite still, looking at Madam Pomfrey. Terror was rising inside him.

There was nobody left to tell. Dumbledore had gone, Hagrid had gone, but he had always expected Professor McGonagall to be there, irascible and inflexible, perhaps, but always dependably, solidly present…

“I don’t wonder you’re shocked, Potter,” said Madam Pomfrey, with a kind of fierce approval in her face. “As if one of them could have Stunned Minerva McGonagall face-on by daylight! Cowardice, that’s what it was… despicable cowardice… if I wasn’t worried what would happen to you students without me, I’d resign in protest.”

“Yes,” said Harry blankly.

He wheeled around and strode blindly from the hospital wing into the teeming corridor where he stood, buffeted by the crowd, panic expanding inside him like poison gas so that his head swam and he could not think what to do…

Ron and Hermione, said a voice in his head.

He was running again, pushing students out of the way, oblivious to their angry protests. He sprinted back down two floors and was at the top of the marble staircase when he saw them hurrying towards him.

“Harry!” said Hermione at once, looking very frightened. “What happened? Are you all right? Are you ill?”

“Where have you been?” demanded Ron.

“Come with me,” Harry said quickly. “Come on, I’ve got to tell you something.”

He led them along the first-floor corridor, peering through doorways, and at last found an empty classroom into which he dived, closing the door behind Ron and Hermione the moment they were inside, and leaned against it, facing them.

“Voldemort’s got Sirius.”

“What?”

“How d’you—?”

“Saw it. Just now. When I fell asleep in the exam.”

“But—but where? How?” said Hermione, whose face was white.