Dolores Umbridge looked up from the clipboard in her hand and noticed Hermione.

"Ah, Mafalda! Travers sent you, did he? Good. We'll go straight down." She eyed Harry. "Albert . . . Rose . . . aren't you two getting out?" A shiver ran up my spine as her cold, malicious gaze fell on me.

Harry nodded mutely, stepping out. I followed him.

As the lift descended, we watched Hermione's anxious face sink out of sight.

We passed one gleaming door after another, glancing down purple-carpeted corridors that stretched into nothingness. A muttering wizard passed by, murmuring to a quill floating in front of him. Besides him, it was eerily quiet.

"Weasley!" someone called. Harry and I stopped dead, expecting the worst. Had Ron been found out? I reached slowly for my wand, but Harry held out an arm, stopping me. He peered around a corner, and his shoulders relaxed. He motioned for me to look. I followed his line of sight and saw a slight, familiar-looking red-headed wizard.

Percy Weasley, Harry mouthed.

"They're waiting for your report downstairs."

"Oh, yes . . . of course." Harry watches Percy hurry off. We continued walking through the hallway. As we reached the end, we emerged into a wide open space, stopping abruptly again. Dozens of witches and wizards were sitting at a sea of small desks. Waving their wands in unison, squares of pink paper flitted like kites through the air, dropping into neat stacks. I crept closer, sees that they were titled, "MUDBLOODS and the Dangers They Pose to a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society."

"Reckon the old hag will be interrogating Mudbloods all day?" a witch asked.

Another wizard wearing spectacles hushed her.

Pius Thicknesse appeared, trailing a retinue of lackeys.

"Runcorn. Karasu," he greeted at the both of us. We nodded in return.

As we looked around, Harry nudged me, jutting his chin towards a shining pinkish-mahogany door. I approached it, leaving Harry behind, and noticed something moving. As I peered closer, with a sick jolt of shock, I realized it was Mad-Eye Moody's spinning eye, swirling as it focused on me.

Tearing my gaze away from the blue eye, I looked down at the golden nameplate. It said, DOLORES UMBRIDGE HEAD OF THE MUGGLE-BORN REGISTRATION COMMISSION.

I could see Harry's jaw working in the distance in anger as I looked over my shoulder, giving him a subtle nod. I watched as he reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a decoy detonater, an odd object with little weaving legs and a rubber-bulbed horn for a body.  It scuttled down his body, across the floor and directly into the sea of desks.

We waited.

Bang!

Black smoke billowed into the air, pink pages flew everywhere and the Detonator gave birth to dozens of tiny replicants of itself, which raced about the floor, up the legs and across the desks of the pamphleteers. The witch who had spoken earlier shrieked. As chaos ensued, I took the chance to slip into Umbridge's office, closing the door. Moments later, the knob turned, and Harry—Runcorn—slid in.

I took in the room, the hairs on my arms rising. Everything about it gave me a strange feeling. The room's decor was sickeningly cute. Lace doilies. Dried flowers. Everything decorated in gold.

"Keep watch. I'll check for the locket," I said to him. Harry nodded.

I pulled out my wand. "Accio locket."

We waited, and I frowned, trying again. I waved my wand.

"It's not here," I said to him, and Harry rubbed his face.

"Look through the drawers. Maybe it's under a spell or something." I hurried to the desk, pulling open the drawers. 

A leaflet bearing Harry's face— "Undesirable #1"—lay upon Umbridge's desk, along with pictures of other Order members. Two had large, pink "X's" scratched on them: Dumbledore and Mad-Eye. I glanced up at Harry who stood in front of the door, and turned the paper over so that he wouldn't see. As I looked through the drawers, Harry appeared next to me, looking through the filing cabinet. He suddenly, froze, pulling out a file. Inside was a photo of Hermione and an accompanying data sheet: "Blood Status: MUGGLE BORN." I continued reading down. "Whereabouts: Last seen in the company of Undesirable #1."

Quickly Harry replaced the file, pulling out Ron's next.

He began reading out loud. "Blood Status: PUREBLOOD . . . Pro-Muggle leanings. Whereabouts: Last seen in the company of Undesirable #1."

"Maybe they'll go easy on him because he's pureblooded?"

"I doubt it," he said. "She hates Ron." Harry started to put the file away, then paused, looks closer. "Oh, no."

"What is it?" I asked, taking the paper from him and reading out loud.

"Father: Arthur Weasley. Ministry Employee. Status: TRACKED. Strong likelihood Undesirable #1 will contact."

"Tracked," he repeated after me. "He's being tracked, because of me."

I opened my mouth to say something, but changed my mind last minute. "Harry, we have no time to worry about this. Let's discuss this after we find the locket."

It was harsh, but it was the truth. Harry nodded, shutting the cabinet, and opened another drawer. We searched high and low, top to bottom, but the locket was nowhere in sight.

"It's not in here," he said, defeated. "We have to go."

"I'll go first," I said. "I'll make sure no one's watching the door."

He nodded, and I walked to the door, opening it slightly, and slipped out. A man's eyes fell on me, but I held a finger to my lips, hoping he'd stay quiet. The commotion had died down, and half of the wizards were murmuring spells to clean up, the other half resuming their printing.

I walked quickly into the hall, out of sight. I waited for Harry to show up. Just when I was starting to worry, he reappeared.

"What now?" I asked. "Where do we look next?"

"I have no idea," he said, shoulders sinking in defeat. "What I do know is that we have to get out of here before one of them snitches." He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, back into the room full of witches and wizards.

"Let's get out of here."

We began to run down the hall and towards the lift, sliding inside.

"Morning," a tired voice said. I turned to reply, but stopped when I saw who it was.

"Ron!" I exclaimed. He was soaked to the bone.

His eyes widened. "Blimey, I forgot what you two looked like!" He frowned. "Where's Hermione?" The lift opened, and we stepped out.

"No idea," I said, out of breath. "Come on, we have to keep moving."

As we continued forward, I noticed a familiar flash of blond.

I almost vomited right there.

What was he doing here?

Draco Malfoy stood next to his father, and they seemed to be in a deep discussion. As I strode past him, I made the mistake of looking up.

He wouldn't recognize me. I was Rose Karasu, not Elvira Steele. He wouldn't. He couldn't.

His silver eyes met mine. Everything seemed to freeze, as they narrowed slightly. I held my breath.

He gave me a nod, and looked away.

I let out a sigh of relief.

As I walked passed him, I thanked the lord he didn't recognize me, because if he had—

The pocket of my cloak got caught on a hooked doorknob, tearing open. I felt the blood drain from my face as something slipped out of it, falling on the floor with a thud.

Malfoy turned.

"I'll get that for you—"

"No no, it's okay," I said hurriedly, reaching down to grab it. His fingers reached it first, swiping it up before I could touch it. He glanced down at the ring, staring at the snakes twisting around an M. Slowly, his face turned into a frown, and then a look of outrage.

"I gave this to . . ." He looked up into my eyes. "Who are you?" He demanded, his fingers wrapping around my wrist in a vise-like grip.

"Let go of me . . ." I hissed, yanking my arm back. He wouldn't let go. "Draco, let go, please."

"You have my ring!" he hissed back. "Did Elvira Steele give it to you?"

As he stood there, waiting for an answer, Lucius Malfoy looked over his son's shoulder.

"Draco? Is there something wrong?" he drawled. "Who is this?" he asked, looking straight at me.

"Trust me," I said, only low enough for Draco to hear. I ripped my hand out of his grasp, grabbed the ring, and with that, I turned, walking away.

I reunited with Harry and Ron and we began running down a dark torch-lit stone passageway. Suddenly, it felt like in icy drop of water had been spilled down my back. I shuddered, holding out a hand, telling them to slow down.

"Harry," I said quietly. As his name left my mouth, my heart sank. A cloud formed around my lips. Ron's breath was suddenly visible.

"B-bloody cold down here," Ron said, rubbing his arms.

My gaze met Harry's, and I swallowed as he seemed to understand.

We turned towards the doors.

Swirling outside the courtroom doors were tall, black-hooded figures.

Dementors.

Ron's face turned white.

Just then, a man came stumbling out of the courtroom in the company of a pair of death eaters.

"I'm half-blood, I tell you! My father was a wizard! Look him up! William Alderton! He worked here for thirty years!"

It wasn't fair what was happening to them, what was happening to all of them. I hated that I could do nothing about it.

As we watched the terrified man pass, Harry grabbed both of our arms, pulling us toward the courtroom.

We opened the doors, stepping into a cathedral, possessed of a palpable chill. Dementors floated eerily in the gloom. The ceiling stretched for miles, disappearing into darkness. No one had noticed us yet. We moved cautiously, taking in our surroundings.

I noticed Mafalda—Hermione—sitting next to a stack of parchment behind a balustrade, alongside Umbridge and Yaxley, while a bright silver cat—which I guessed was Umbridge's Patronus—prowled up and down, providing warmth to them and them only. I watched Harry's eyes track the cat, then drift to Umbridge herself. His eyes widened.

"What is it?" I asked, following his eyes. He narrowed them, cocking his head.

"She's wearing it," Ron groaned softly.

"Mary Cattermole," Umbridge voice said, and although she was calm, there was a strange, eerie pitch behind it.

Below the balustrade, a frail woman—Mary—sat with her wrists chained. She scanned everyone's faces as if she were looking for someone, and as her eyes fell on Ron, she smiled widely.

Ron glanced at me, and I nodded towards Mary Cattermole.

Go to her.

He began to step forward shakily. It was nothing out of the ordinary; everyone in the room probably thought it was nerves. After all, this was a life or death situation.

Ron moved to the center of the room, taking his place behind the woman. Hesitating, he placed his hands gently upon her shoulders, then glanced up. I noticed Hermione realize who he was, and her eyes widened slightly.

"Mary Elizabeth Cattermole?" Umbridge said, sitting up straight. I had an urge to punch her in that smug face of hers.

"Yes," she said quietly, sinking into her chair.

"Mother to Maisie, Ellie and Alfred? Wife to Reginald?"

Mary looked up at Ron, her eyes glistening with fear. He smiled reassuringly. She looked away, replying, "Yes."

I eyed Umbridge. Her pink scarf was draped over her chair now, which was probably why we hadn't seen the locket earlier in the lift. With the scarf gone, I could clearly see the gold chain that extended from her neck down into the ruffled folds of her blouse. A slight humming, faint and oddly lyrical, rang in my ears as I watched the chain. I felt myself being drawn to it, inching towards the balustrade.

"A wand was taken from you upon your arrival at the Ministry today, Mrs. Cattermole. Is this that wand?" Umbridge displayed a cherrywood wand. Mary Cattermole nodded. "Would you please tell the court from which witch or wizard you took this wand?"

Mary's eyes widened. "But I didn't take it. I got it in Diagon Alley, at Ollivander's, when I was eleven. It chose me." She splayed out her hands, trying to make the devil woman understand. Umbridge leaned forward, teeth glittering as the cat slinked by and briefly illuminated her face. As she leaned forward, the chain swung from her neck.

I turned my head to see Harry standing clearly in view, the corners of his eyes narrowing once again. Slowly, he reached into his pocket.

"No no, I don't think so, Mrs. Cattermole. Wands only choose witches. And you," she said, her teeth appearing, "are not a witch."

Mary Cattermole's mouth opened and closed as she tried to find the words to prove herself. "But I am! Tell them, Reg! Tell them what I am!"

Ron started to speak, but Umbridge's gaze has shifted, to Harry, to the wand rising in his hand. He pointed it at her.

"What the devil are you doing, Albert?"

As Harry spoke, his own face rippled through Runcorn's, the Polyjuice Potion wearing off.

Oh, shi—

"You're lying," Harry said, strangely calm as the scar slowly appeared on his forehead. "And one mustn't tell lies, Dolores." As Umbridge raised her wand, a look of confusion mixed with fear crossing her face, Harry yelled, "Stupefy!" A flash of red light hit Umbridge and she slumped forehead, forehead striking the balustrade. Her patronus vanished, and Yaxley drew his wand, but Ron was too quick and took him out with a single blast. Hermione reached forward, no longer Mafalda Hopkins, and yanked the the locket from Umbridge's neck.

A ghostly chill whispered through my clothes, and I looked up. Without the patronus, the dementors were descending upon us.

"I'll hold them off!" I shouted. "Get out of here!"

"I'll stay with you!" Hermione shouted, but I shook my head.

"Get the locket to safety! I can handle myself!"

Hermione nodded reluctantly, and with one last glance back, followed Ron and Harry out of the room.

I raised my wand at the ceiling as a dementor swirled around me. All I could feel was the chill seeping into my bones, the hollow breathing of the hooded creatures . . .

I began to feel lightheaded as they breathed in, sucking my soul out. I knew what was happening, but I couldn't stop it. I tried to say the spell, but I couldn't seem to form the words. I had only done the spell twice before.

You can do this, I told myself. Happiest memory.

My parents, picking me up at the train station. Celebrating my first year. The gifts and love I received, after expecting the worst. How could I have expected the worst? I loved them, and their love would never die for me.

"Expecto . . . Expecto Patronum!" I shut my eyes as silver burst from my wand, an occamy appearing, flying around the room. It was a serpent-like creature with wings and a beak, it's scales shimmering as it created a shield around me. The dementors flew back, the warmth from the patronus pushing them away.

I sucked in air, gasping for breath as I spun around, running towards the doors. As I grabbed the handles, the door burst open, nearly cracking my skull open.

I groaned.

"Where are they?" Malfoy snarled, pushing me out of the way.

"Who?"

"Potter . . . Granger . . . The weasel," he spat. "I saw one of them running down the hall—"

"Listen, Malfoy, let's talk about this later. I have to go—"

"Oh, no, no," he said, stepping between me and the door, slowly pushing it closed. "I'm afraid you can't leave."

I frowned. "What?"

"I'm turning you in."

I felt all of my blood evaporate into nothingness.