“No!” said Hermione in a horrorstruck squeak. “Please—I didn’t mean that! I just hoped you’d be able to—to help us—”

  But she seemed to be going from bad to worse.

  “We do not help humans!” snarled the centaur holding Harry, tightening his grip and rearing a little at the same time, so that Harry’s feet left the ground momentarily. “We are a race apart and proud to be so. We will not permit you to walk from here, boasting that we did your bidding!”

  “We’re not going to say anything like that!” Harry shouted. “We know you didn’t do what you did because we wanted you to—”

  But nobody seemed to be listening to him.

  A bearded centaur towards the back of the crowd shouted, “They came here unasked, they must pay the consequences!”

  A roar of approval met these words and a dun-coloured centaur shouted, “They can join the woman!”

  “You said you didn’t hurt the innocent!” shouted Hermione, real tears sliding down her face now. “We haven’t done anything to hurt you, we haven’t used wands or threats, we just want to go back to school, please let us go back—”

  “We are not all like the traitor Firenze, human girl!” shouted the grey centaur, to more neighing roars of approval from his fellows. “Perhaps you thought us pretty talking horses? We are an ancient people who will not stand wizard invasions and insults! We do not recognise your laws, we do not acknowledge your superiority, we are—”

  But they did not hear what else centaurs were, for at that moment there came a crashing noise on the edge of the clearing so loud that all of them, Harry, Hermione and the filty or so centaurs filling the clearing, looked around. Harry’s centaur let him fall to the ground again as his hands flew to his bow and quiver of arrows. Hermione had been dropped, too, and Harry hurried towards her as two thick tree trunks parted ominously and the monstrous form of Grawp the giant appeared in the gap.

  The centaurs nearest him backed into those behind; the clearing was now a forest of bows and arrows waiting to be fired, all pointing upwards at the enormous greyish face now looming over them from just beneath the thick canopy of branches. Grawp’s lopsided mouth was gaping stupidly; they could see his bricklike yellow teeth glimmering in the half-light, his dull sludge-coloured eyes narrowed as he squinted down at the creatures at his feet. Broken ropes trailed from both ankles.

  He opened his mouth even wider.

  “Hagger.”

  Harry did not know what ‘hagger’ meant, or what language it was from, nor did he much care; he was watching Grawp’s feet, which were almost as long as Harry’s whole body. Hermione gripped his arm tightly; the centaurs were quite silent, staring up at the giant, whose huge, round head moved from side to side as he continued to peer amongst them as though looking for something he had dropped.

  “Hagger!” he said again, more insistently.

  “Get away from here, giant!” called Magorian. “You are not welcome among us!”

  These words seemed to make no impression whatsoever on Grawp. He stooped a little (the centaurs’ arms tensed on their bows), then bellowed, “HAGGER!”

  A few of the centaurs looked worried now. Hermione, however, gave a gasp.

  “Harry!” she whispered. “I think he’s trying to say ‘Hagrid’!”

  At this precise moment Grawp caught sight of them, the only two humans in a sea of centaurs. He lowered his head another foot or so, staring intently at them. Harry could feel Hermione shaking as Grawp opened his mouth wide again and said, in a deep, rumbling voice, “Hermy.”

  “Goodness,” said Hermione, gripping Harry’s arm so tightly it was growing numb and looking as though she was about to faint, “he—he remembered!”

  “HERMY!” roared Grawp. “WHERE HAGGER?”

  “I don’t know!” squealed Hermione, terrified. “I’m sorry, Grawp, I don’t know!”

  “GRAWP WANT HAGGER!”

  One of the giant’s massive hands reached down. Hermione let out a real scream, ran a few steps backwards and fell over. Devoid of a wand, Harry braced himself to punch, kick, bite or whatever else it took as the hand swooped towards him and knocked a snow-white centaur off his legs.

  It was what the centaurs had been waiting for—Grawp’s outstretched fingers were a foot from Harry when fifty arrows soared through the air at the giant, peppering his enormous face, causing him to howl with pain and rage and straighten up, rubbing his face with his enormous hands, breaking off the arrow shafts but forcing the arrowheads in still deeper.

  He yelled and stamped his enormous feet and the centaurs scattered out of the way; pebble-sized droplets of Grawp’s blood showered Harry as he pulled Hermione to her feet and the pair of them ran as fast as they could for the shelter of the trees. Once there they looked back; Grawp was snatching blindly at the centaurs as blood ran down his face; they were retreating in disorder, galloping away through the trees on the other side of the clearing. Harry and Hermione watched Grawp give another roar of fury and plunge after them, smashing more trees aside as he went.

  “Oh no,” said Hermione, quaking so badly that her knees gave way. “Oh, that was horrible. And he might kill them all.”

  “I’m not that fussed, to be honest,” said Harry bitterly.

  The sounds of the galloping centaurs and the blundering giant grew fainter and fainter. As Harry listened to them, his scar gave another great throb and a wave of terror swept over him.

  They had wasted so much time—they were even further from rescuing Sirius than they had been when he had had the vision. Not only had Harry managed to lose his wand but they were stuck in the middle of the Forbidden Forest with no means of transport whatsoever.

  “Smart plan,” he spat at Hermione, having to release some of his fury. “Really smart plan. Where do we go from here?”

  “We need to get back up to the castle,” said Hermione faintly.

  “By the time we’ve done that, Sirius’ll probably be dead!” said Harry, kicking a nearby tree in temper. A high-pitched chattering started up overhead and he looked up to see an angry Bowtruckle flexing its long twiglike fingers at him.

  “Well, we can’t do anything without wands,” said Hermione hopelessly, dragging herself up again. “Anyway, Harry, how exactly were you planning to get all the way to London?”

  “Yeah, we were just wondering that,” said a familiar voice from behind her.

  Harry and Hermione moved together instinctively and peered through the trees.

  Ron came into sight, closely followed by Ginny, Neville and Luna. All of them looked a little the worse for wear—there were several long scratches running the length of Ginny’s cheek; a large purple lump was swelling above Neville’s right eye; Ron’s lip was bleeding worse than ever—but all were looking rather pleased with themselves.

  “So,” said Ron, pushing aside a low-hanging branch and holding out Harry’s wand, “had any ideas?”

  “How did you get away?” asked Harry in amazement, taking his wand from Ron.

  “Couple of Stunners, a Disarming Charm, Neville brought off a really nice little Impediment Jinx,” said Ron airily, now handing back Hermione’s wand, too. “But Ginny was best, she got Malfoy—Bat Bogey Hex—it was superb, his whole face was covered in the great flapping things. Anyway, we saw you out of the window heading into the Forest and followed. What’ve you done with Umbridge?”

  “She got carried away,” said Harry. “By a herd of centaurs.”

  “And they left you behind?” asked Ginny, looking astonished.

  “No, they got chased off by Grawp,” said Harry.

  “Who’s Grawp?” Luna asked interestedly.

  “Hagrid’s little brother,” said Ron promptly. “Anyway, never mind that now. Harry, what did you find out in the fire? Has You-Know-Who got Sirius or—?”

  “Yes,” said Harry, as his scar gave another painful prickle, “and I’m sure Sirius is still alive, but I can’t see how we’re going to get there to help him.”

  They all fell silent, looking rather scared; the problem facing them seemed insurmountable.

  “Well, we’ll have to fly, won’t we?” said Luna, in the closest thing to a matter-of-fact voice Harry had ever heard her use.

  “OK,” said Harry irritably, rounding on her. “First of all, ‘we’ aren’t doing anything if you’re including yourself in that, and second of all, Ron’s the only one with a broomstick that isn’t being guarded by a security troll, so—”

  “I’ve got a broom!” said Ginny.

  “Yeah, but you’re not coming,” said Ron angrily.

  “Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!” said Ginny, her jaw set so that her resemblance to Fred and George was suddenly striking.

  “You’re too—” Harry began, but Ginny said fiercely, “I’m three years older than you were when you fought You-Know-Who over the Philosopher’s Stone, and it’s because of me that Malfoy’s stuck back in Umbridge’s office with giant flying bogies attacking him—”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “We were all in the D.A. together,” said Neville quietly. “It was all supposed to be about fighting You-Know-Who, wasn’t it? And this is the first chance we’ve had to do something real—or was that all just a game or something?”

  “No—of course it wasn’t—” said Harry impatiently.

  “Then we should come too,” said Neville simply. “We want to help.”

  “That’s right,” said Luna, smiling happily.

  Harry’s eyes met Ron’s. He knew Ron was thinking exactly what he was: if he could have chosen any members of the D.A., in addition to himself, Ron and Hermione, to join him in the attempt to rescue Sirius, he would not have picked Ginny, Neville or Luna.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter, anyway,” said Harry through gritted teeth, “because we still don’t know how to get there—”

  “I thought we’d settled that,” said Luna maddeningly. “We’re flying!”

  “Look,” said Ron, barely containing his anger, “you might be able to fly without a broomstick but the rest of us can’t sprout wings whenever we—”

  “There are ways of flying other than with broomsticks,” said Luna serenely.

  “I ’s’pose we’re going to ride on the back of the Kacky Snorgle or whatever it is?” Ron demanded.

  “The Crumple-Horned Snorkack can’t fly,” said Luna in a dignified voice, “but they can, and Hagrid says they’re very good at finding places their riders are looking for.”

  Harry whirled round. Standing between two trees, their white eyes gleaming eerily, were two Thestrals, watching the whispered conversation as though they understood every word.

  “Yes!” he whispered, moving towards them. They tossed their reptilian heads, throwing back long black manes, and Harry stretched out his hand eagerly and patted the nearest one’s shining neck; how could he ever have thought them ugly?

  “Is it those mad horse things?” said Ron uncertainly, staring at a point slightly to the left of the Thestral Harry was patting. “Those ones you can’t see unless you’ve watched someone snuff it?”

  “Yeah,” said Harry.

  “How many?”

  “Just two.”

  “Well, we need three,” said Hermione, who was still looking a little shaken, but determined just the same.

  “Four, Hermione,” said Ginny, scowling.

  “I think there are six of us, actually,” said Luna calmly, counting.

  “Don’t be stupid, we can’t all go!” said Harry angrily. “Look, you three—” he pointed at Neville, Ginny and Luna, “you’re not involved in this, you’re not—”

  They burst into more protests. His scar gave another, more painful, twinge. Every moment they delayed was precious; he did not have time to argue.

  “OK, fine, it’s your choice,” he said curtly, “but unless we can find more Thestrals you’re not going to be able—”

  “Oh, more of them will come,” said Ginny confidently, who like Ron was squinting in quite the wrong direction, apparently under the impression that she was looking at the horses.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because, in case you hadn’t noticed, you and Hermione are both covered in blood,” she said coolly, “and we know Hagrid lures Thestrals with raw meat. That’s probably why these two turned up in the first place.”

  Harry felt a soft tug on his robes at that moment and looked down to see the closest Thestral licking his sleeve, which was damp with Grawp’s blood.

  “OK, then,” he said, a bright idea occurring, “Ron and I will take these two and go ahead, and Hermione can stay here with you three and she’ll attract more Thestrals—”

  “I’m not staying behind!” said Hermione furiously.

  “There’s no need,” said Luna, smiling. “Look, here come more now… you two must really smell…”

  Harry turned: no fewer than six or seven Thestrals were picking their way through the trees, their great leathery wings folded tight to their bodies, their eyes gleaming through the darkness. He had no excuse now.

  “All right,” he said angrily, “pick one and get on, then.”

  34. THE DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES

  Harry wound his hand tightly into the mane of the nearest Thestral, placed a foot on a stump nearby and scrambled clumsily on to the horses silken back. It did not object, but twisted its head around, fangs bared, and attempted to continue its eager licking of his robes.

  He found there was a way of lodging his knees behind the wing joints that made him feel more secure, then looked around at the others. Neville had heaved himself over the back of the next Thestral and was now attempting to swing one short leg over the creature’s back. Luna was already in place, sitting side-saddle and adjusting her robes as though she did this every day. Ron, Hermione and Ginny, however, were still standing motionless on the spot, open-mouthed and staring.

  “What?” he said.

  “How’re we supposed to get on?” said Ron faintly. “When we can’t see the things?”

  “Oh, it’s easy,” said Luna, sliding obligingly from her Thestral and marching over to him, Hermione and Ginny. “Come here…”

  She pulled them over to the other Thestrals standing around and one by one managed to help them on to the back of their mount. All three looked extremely nervous as she wound their hands into their horses mane and told them to grip tightly before she got back on to her own steed.

  “This is mad,” Ron murmured, moving his free hand gingerly up and down his horse’s neck. “Mad… if I could just see it—”

  “You’d better hope it stays invisible,” said Harry darkly. “We all ready, then?”

  They all nodded and he saw five pairs of knees tighten beneath their robes.

  “OK…”

  He looked down at the back of his Thestral’s glossy black head and swallowed.

  “Ministry of Magic, visitors’ entrance, London, then,” he said uncertainly. “Er… if you know… where to go…”

  For a moment Harry’s Thestral did nothing at all; then, with a sweeping movement that nearly unseated him, the wings on either side extended; the horse crouched slowly, then rocketed upwards so fast and so steeply that Harry had to clench his arms and legs tightly around the horse to avoid sliding backwards over its bony rump. He closed his eyes and pressed his face down into the horse’s silky mane as they burst through the topmost branches of the trees and soared out into a blood-red sunset.

  Harry did not think he had ever moved so fast: the Thestral streaked over the castle, its wide wings hardly beating; the cooling air was slapping Harry’s face; eyes screwed up against the rushing wind, he looked round and saw his five fellows soaring along behind him, each of them bent as low as possible into the neck of their Thestral to protect themselves from his slipstream.

  They were over the Hogwarts grounds, they had passed Hogsmeade; Harry could see mountains and gullies below them. As the daylight began to fail, Harry saw small collections of lights as they passed over more villages, then a winding road on which a single car was beetling its way home through the hills…

  “This is bizarre!” Harry barely heard Ron yell from somewhere behind him, and he imagined how it must feel to be speeding along at this height with no visible means of support.

  Twilight fell: the sky was turning to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars, and soon only the lights of Muggle towns gave them any clue of how far from the ground they were, or how very fast they were travelling. Harry’s arms were wrapped tightly around his horse’s neck as he willed it to go even faster. How much time had elapsed since he had seen Sirius lying on the Department of Mysteries floor? How much longer would Sirius be able to resist Voldemort? All Harry knew for sure was that his godfather had neither done as Voldemort wanted, nor died, for he was convinced that either outcome would have caused him to feel Voldemort’s jubilation or fury course through his own body, making his scar sear as painfully as it had on the night Mr. Weasley was attacked.

  On they flew through the gathering darkness; Harry’s face felt stiff and cold, his legs numb from gripping the Thestrals sides so tightly, but he did not dare shift his position lest he slip… he was deaf from the thundering rush of air in his ears, and his mouth was dry and frozen from the cold night wind. He had lost all sense of how far they had come; all his faith was in the beast beneath him, still streaking purposefully through the night, barely flapping its wings as it sped ever onwards.

  If they were too late…

  He’s still alive, he’s still fighting, I can feel it…

  If Voldemort decided Sirius was not going to crack…

  I’d know…

  Harry’s stomach gave a jolt; the Thestrals head was suddenly pointing towards the ground and he actually slid forwards a few inches along its neck. They were descending at last… he thought he heard a shriek behind him and twisted around dangerously, but could see no sign of a falling body… presumably they had all received a shock from the change of direction, just as he had.