The Girl Who Hid | ✓

|84| Closure

"That Umbridge woman is absolute mental, I'm going to— argh!" I groaned, marching up to Harry, Hermione, and Ron, who had been waiting for me to get out of my career appointment with Professor McGonagall.

"What'd she do—"

"Remember at the beginning of last term when we were talking about our career choices and I said I'd like to do something with Werewolf Relations?" I said quickly. "Umbridge said by the time we finish school, there will most likely not be any Werewolf Relations department because Fudge believes it'd be better if we just register them and isolate—"

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but I didn't give her a second to say anything.

"— And my second option, International Wizarding Office of Law, is 'not appropriate' despite the fact I am top in our year— tied with you, of course, Hermione— but Umbridge doesn't care!" I huffed.

"Umbridge also thinks that I won't be able to make it to be an Auror because no one in the Ministry of Magic would hire me," Harry said sadly.

Halfway through Umbridge's lesson, the plan to sneak into her office to talk to Sirius was set. Along the corridor outside when he heard the unmistakable sounds of a diversion going off in the distance. There were screams and yells reverberating from somewhere above us. People exiting the classrooms all around me were stopping in their tracks and looking up at the ceiling fearfully—

Then Umbridge came pelting out of her classroom as fast as her short legs would carry her. Pulling out her wand, she hurried off in the opposite direction: It was now or never.

"Harry— Maisey — please!" said Hermione weakly.

But Harry and I had made up our mind. For the last week, the memory we watched that had belonged to Snape hit Harry harder than it hit me, but it explained a lot of things: Why Snape hated Harry and me, why Lupin and Sirius disliked Snape, but, for the life of us, we could not figure out why our father hated Snape.

Running after Harry, we weaved in and out of the students now hurrying in the opposite direction, off to see what all the fuss was about in the east wing. Reaching the corridor where Umbridge's office was, we found it to be deserted. Dashing behind a large suit of armor whose helmet creaked around to watch us, Harry pulled open his bag, seized Sirius's knife, and donned the Invisibility Cloak around us. Carefully, we then crept slowly and carefully back out from behind the suit of armor and along the corridor until we reached Umbridge's door.

Harry inserted the blade of the magical knife into the crack around it and moved it gently up and down, then withdrew it. There was a tiny click, and the door swung open. We ducked inside the office, closed the door quickly behind us, and looked around.

It was empty; nothing was moving except the horrible kittens on the plates continuing to frolic on the wall above the confiscated broomsticks. Harry pulled the Cloak off us and, striding over to the fireplace, found what we were looking for within seconds: a small box containing glittering Floo powder.

Crouching down in front of the empty grate, I took a large pinch of powder, grabbed Harry's hand, and we both stuck our head into the emerald-green flames.

"Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!" I said loudly and clearly. Harry wanted to do it, but his previous time using Floo Powder... didn't work.

It was one of the most curious sensations I had ever experienced; I had traveled by Floo powder before, of course, but then it had been my entire body that had spun around and around in the flames through the network of Wizarding fireplaces that stretched over the country: This time, our knees remained firm upon the cold floor of Umbridge's office, and only our heads hurtled through the emerald fire.