‘Hi, Dobby!’ he said. ‘What are you—What's wrong?’

‘Hi, Dobby!’ he said. ‘What are you—What's wrong?’

The elf's eyes were wide with terror and he was shaking. The members of the DA closest to Harry had fallen silent; everybody in the room was watching Dobby. The few Patronuses people had managed to conjure faded away

into silver mist, leaving the room looking much darker than before.

‘Harry Potter, sir ...’ squeaked the elf, trembling from head to foot, ‘Harry Potter, sir ... Dobby has come to warn you ... but the house-elves have been warned not to tell ...’

He ran head-first at the wall. Harry, who had some experience of Dobby s habits of self-punishment, made to seize him, but Dobby merely bounced off the stone, cushioned by his eight hats. Hermione and a few of the other

girls let out squeaks of fear and sympathy.

‘What's happened, Dobby?’ Harry asked, grabbing the elf's tiny arm and holding him away from anything with which he might seek to hurt himself.

‘Harry Potter ... she ... she ...’

Dobby hit himself hard on the nose with his free fist. Harry seized that, too.

‘Who's “she", Dobby?’

But he thought he knew; surely only one ‘she’ could induce such fear in Dobby? The elf looked up at him, slightly cross-eyed, and mouthed wordlessly.

‘Umbridge?’ asked Harry, horrified.

Dobby nodded, then tried to bang his head on Harry's knees. Harry held him at arm's length.

‘What about her? Dobby—she hasn't found out about this—about us—about the DA?’

He read the answer in the elf's stricken face. His hands held fast by Harry, the elf tried to kick himself and fell to the floor.

‘Is she coming?’ Harry asked quietly.

Dobby let out a howl, and began beating his bare feet hard on the floor.

‘Yes, Harry Potter, yes!’

Harry straightened up and looked around at the motionless, terrified people gazing at the thrashing elf.

‘WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?’ Harry bellowed. ‘RUN!’

They all pelted towards the exit at once, forming a scrum at the door, then people burst through. Harry could hear them sprinting along the corridors and hoped they had the sense not to try and make it all the way to their

dormitories. It was only ten to nine; if they just took refuge in the library or the Owlery, which were both nearer—

‘Harry, come on!’ shrieked Hermione from the centre of the knot of people now fighting to get out.

He scooped up Dobby, who was still attempting to do himself serious injury, and ran with the elf in his arms to join the back of the queue.

‘Dobby—this is an order—get back down to the kitchen with the other elves and, if she asks you whether you warned me, lie and say no!’ said Harry. ‘And I forbid you to hurt yourself!’ he added, dropping the elf as he made it

over the threshold at last and slammed the door behind him.

‘Thank you, Harry Potter!’ squeaked Dobby, and he streaked off. Harry glanced left and right, the others were all moving so fast he caught only glimpses of flying heels at either end of the corridor before they vanished; he

started to run right; there was a boys’ bathroom up ahead, he could pretend he'd been in there all the time if he could just reach it—

‘AAARGH!

Something caught him around the ankles and he fell spectacularly, skidding along on his front for six feet before coming to a halt. Someone behind him was laughing. He rolled over on to his, back and saw Malfoy concealed

in a niche beneath an ugly dragon-shaped vase.

‘Trip Jinx, Potter!’ he said. ‘Hey, Professor—PROFESSOR! I've got one!’

Umbridge came bustling round the far corner, breathless but wearing a delighted smile.

‘It's him!’ she said jubilantly at the sight of Harry on the floor, ‘Excellent, Draco, excellent, oh, very good—fifty points to Slytherin! I'll take him from here ... stand up, Potter!’

Harry got to his feet, glaring at the pair of them. He had never seen Umbridge looking so happy. She seized his arm in a vice-like grip and turned, beaming broadly, to Malfoy.

‘You hop along and see if you can round up any more of them, Draco,’ she said. ‘Tell the others to look in the library—anybody out of breath—check the bathrooms, Miss Parkinson can do the girls’ ones—off you go—and

you,’ she added in her softest, most dangerous voice, as Malfoy walked away, ‘you can come with me to the Headmaster's office, Potter.’

They were at the stone gargoyle within minutes. Harry wondered how many of the others had been caught. He thought of Ron—Mrs. Weasley would kill him—and of how Hermione would feel if she was expelled before she

could take her OWLs. And it had been Seamus's very first meeting ... and Neville had been getting so good ...

‘Fizzing Whizzbee,’ sang Umbridge; the stone gargoyle jumped aside, the wall behind split open, and they ascended the moving stone staircase. They reached the polished door with the griffin knocker, but Umbridge did not

bother to knock, she strode straight inside, still holding tight to Harry.

The office was full of people. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, his expression serene, the tips of his long fingers together. Professor McGonagall stood rigidly beside him, her face extremely tense. Cornelius Fudge,

Minister for Magic, was rocking backwards and forwards on his toes beside the fire, apparently immensely pleased with the situation; Kingsley Shacklebolt and a tough-looking wizard with very short wiry hair whom Harry did

not recognise, were positioned either side of the door like guards, and the freckled, bespectacled form of Percy Weasley hovered excitedly beside the wall, a quill and a heavy scroll of parchment in his hands, apparently

poised to take notes.