"Draco!" Miranda leaps away from Harry, quickly mumbling something about seeing him later, and sprints after the streak of platinum blonde. Harry will understand. He knows she has to do this. "Draco, wait!"

This is not good. This is not good at all. Sure, they've been fighting a lot lately. More than usual. But they always make up in the end. Miranda has been purposefully avoiding telling Draco about her and Harry for this exact reason. She's been avoiding him, period. And now— him finding out thisway. Discovering that she's been hiding it from him, lying to him. Well, that will only exacerbate his reaction. He's already so touchy when it comes to Harry.

Miranda races down the grassy hill, stumbling a bit over some rocks, "Draco— please, stop. Draco—!" She finally comes even with him, catching the sleeve of his robes in her right hand just as they reach their usual meeting place at the tree. How fitting. Miranda pants, extraordinarily out of breath. "Draco, let me explain. Okay? I know you're upset but—"

"How long?" Draco wrenches away from her, eyes blazing.

"Draco—"

"How long?" he demands, unrelenting. His voice is hard, angry.

Miranda sinks her teeth into her lower lip. "Almost three months," she says quietly.

"Three months?!" Draco roars, saliva flecks flying from his mouth. "Three—"

"Calm down, D," Miranda implores, beseeching him. If she can just explain it to him. Help him understand. She can fix this. She can fix this. "I know— I know you don't like him—"

"Don't like him?!" Draco cries out incredulously, borderline manic. "You know exactly how I feel about him. You know. And you've just been lying to me for months."

"And I'm sorry about that," Miranda tells him earnestly. "Really, I am. But can you blame me? I was afraid of this. I was trying prevent exactly this. To protect you—"

"Don't give me that shit," Draco snaps angrily, mouth in a tight line. "Don't you dare. You don't get to act all hurt. Like you were sparing me, my feelings." He scoffs bitterly, "You weren't thinking about anyone but yourself."

"That's not fair, D," says Miranda, temper rising. She inhales and exhales slowly, trying to keep it from boiling over. "Listen to me. I know you and Harry have your issues. But I'm happy." She looks up at him hopefully. "I'm really happy. I really really like him. Harry makes me happy. That's all that matters." Miranda presses a hand to her heart, "It's not about him. It's not about you. It's about me. So please— please just be happy for me. Be happy I'm happy, Draco."

Draco sneers at her. "Happy?" he spits. "You want me to be happy for you?" His voice is rising in volume by the second, fury only intensifying as he begins a rant. "Sure, I'm fucking happy that you're with Potter. Potter who consistently puts you in dangerous situations because he doesn't care about you. He doesn't care about you like I do. He'll never— who told you about the raid last month? Him or me? Who warned you? Was it fucking Potter?" Draco yells. "No. It was me."

"The only reason you were able to warn me is because you were the one doing the fucking raiding, Draco," Miranda fires back. Now Miranda is upset too, "You do not get to act so high and mighty—"

"Don't blame me for that!" Draco  shouts. "That is his fault, you hear me? He's the idiot who created the damn thing. It is his fault. Not mine. Blame him. I tried— I tried to protect you and you didn't listen." With each blow of his words Draco steps closer and closer to her, lip curling dangerously. "It is always his fault. Everyone thinks he's a fucking hero. You want me to be happy for you? You have fucking matching scars with him, happy about that?" Draco grabs her wrist aggressively. And for the first time, Miranda is afraid of him. "Draco, stop it!" she strains, trying to slip out of his grasp. "You're hurting me!" Miranda looks up at him with fear in her eyes, suddenly releasing how much bigger he is than her. Taller. Stronger.

He only grips her harder, harder, "He is not the hero. And I am not fucking happy for you!" Draco is possessed by his rage, and Miranda trembles under his harsh glare. She's never ever seen him like this.

"Draco, please" she begs, tugging her wrist in vain. The circulation is being cut off. There are tears in her eyes. "Let me go!"

Draco growls gutturally and releases her with such force that she is knocked backward onto the ground. Miranda gasps in pain as she hits the gnarled roots of the tree, slicing a wide gash in the side of her cheek. Winded, she scrambles to her feet, clutching her face. Her fingertips come away bloody.

As soon as Draco processes Miranda is hurt he snaps out of it, nauseated. "Miranda—fuck— no—" he looks down at his own hands in horror. "I didn't mean— what have I done?" He moves towards her, expression tortured. Miranda flinches immediately, shying way from him. Her blood runs cold; she's scared. Scared of Draco. Scared of her best friend.

Sobbing, she runs back to the castle, blood dripping from her face and intermingling with the tears streaming from her eyes. She rushes by Harry, nearly knocking him over to get to the girls lavatory.

"Hey," he says, following after her. "How'd the talk with Malfoy go? Hey— Miranda, slow down." Miranda can hear his call, but does not slow down. Does not turn around. He can't see her like this. He can't. He'll go and attack Draco and get himself in trouble or hurt or both, and she can't have that. She got herself in this mess, and she would not drag Harry down with her.

She bursts into the girls' bathroom, frantically scrubbing at her fcae in an attempt to dry her eyes. Miranda hears the door swing open, and curses under her breath. Of course he followed her. Her stupid, good boyfriend. She covers the side of her cheek with her hand, wincing at the sting of the open wound.

"You're not supposed to be in here," Miranda chokes out, praying he'll leave. Please leave. Please leave.

Harry instantly knows something is wrong, "What's the matter?" He steps closer, concerned. "Did you and Malfoy fight?"

She turns away from him, swallowing down the growing lump in her throat "N-Nothing." Her voice is shaking and she hates it, not knowing how to banish it. "I'm fine. You really— you really should go. Don't want the Inquisitorial Squad to— to catch you," she manages.

"I'm not going anywhere. Why are you holding your face like that?" presses Harry, not to be deterred. He peers at her closer. "Miranda— what— what is that on your arm." A small rivulet of red is dripping down the side of her elbow. "Is that— blood? Oh my god— Miranda are you bleeding?!" Slowly, Harry removes her hand from her face, revealing the laceration. His hand flies to his mouth. Concern for her quickly turns to fury, as understanding washes over him. His face turns white, then red, then a mottled purple. "He did this to you." A vein throbs in his forehead, jaw set tightly. His green eyes are black.

Miranda avoids eye contact, "No—I—"

His hands curl into fists, "I'll kill him." Harry seethes dangerously, clutching his wand. "I'll kill him."

"Harry— wait!" But she's too late, Harry is already storming through Hogwarts. She chases desperately after him, but loses him within the crowds of students. Damn it. She has to stop him. She has to fix this.

"MALFOY!" Harry roars, pushing past a group of terrified first years to get outside. Draco is still searching for Miranda, calling her name, wanting to apologize, wanting to make it right. And that's when Harry finds him.

"MALFOY!" Harry thrusts his wand at Draco, pointing it at the middle of his throat.

"Potter," Draco sneers, voice cold. "Knew it was going to come to this sooner or later. Miranda ran crying to you, did she?"

Harry reacts like a firecracker has been set off below him. His eyes flash with fury. Spit flecks are flying from his mouth. "DON'T YOU SAY HER NAME. DON'T YOU DARE SAY HER NAME. YOU DON'T DESERVE TO SAY HER NAME YOU FILTHY—"

"Confringo!" Draco draws his own wand, shooting a burst of blue light at Harry.

"Protego!" Harry counters swiftly, fuming. The boys continue to duel ferociously, sending a barrage of dangerous spells out of their wands. This is how Miranda comes upon them.

"Stop it! Stop!" she commands, looking wildly from one boy to the other.  "You're going to hurt each other!"

At this point, a crowd has gathered, and Hermione and Ron have arrived. Miranda jumps into action, charging between the two boys before anything worse happens, but Ron and Hermione restrain her.

"It's too dangerous Miranda!" Hermione holds her shoulder back as Miranda resists.

Ron is holding her round the waist firmly, "Just let the have it out. A teacher will intervene soon. Harry won't want you getting in the middle of this and getting yourself hurt."

"Let—me—go" Miranda struggles against them. "I'm already hurt, there's no sense in them getting hurt too. Harry—don't do this," she calls pleadingly, her voice cracking. "Don't." A tear trickles down her cheek, rolling off her face. "Harry." Harry pauses, conflicted. Miranda turn her focus to Draco, "Draco, I want you to stop. Okay, D? Don't hurt him. Please don't hurt him." Draco wavers, staring at Miranda's grief stricken face.

Both boys realize the other isn't paying attention, and take their opportunity. Simultaneously, they screech, "Stupefy!"

"No!" Miranda cries out. She breaks free of Ron and Hermione and throws herself between the boys. Both spells hit her in the chest, and she collapses to the grass, unconscious.

"Shit," Ron mutters under his breath, and Hermione gasps. Draco and Harry's love for Miranda overrules their loathing of each other as they rush to her side, followed hastily by Ron and Hermione.

"Miranda—wake up," Draco touches her hand, pained. "Wake up—"

"Don't touch her." Harry growls, baring his teeth. "This is your fault." For once, Draco has nothing to say, as he withdraws his hands from Miranda's unconscious body.

"What are we going to do?" says Ron nervously. "There's no way we can go to Umbridge."

"McGonagall's still at St Mungo's from the Hagrid incident," Hermione adds worriedly. She glances at Miranda's limp form, and gulps. "We don't have any other options."

"Yes we do," Harry insists gravely. "Umbridge's fire."

"Harry, no," argues Hermione. "You nearly got caught the last time, and McGonagall's not here to protect us anymore. We need to send word to the Order. We'll— we'll send a letter. We can't—"

"We have to," Harry insists. "She's unconscious Hermione, we dont have any other choice—"

"I— I can help." Draco stutters hesitantly, on the fringe of their conversation.

"Why on earth would we accept help from you, Malfoy?" Ron looks at him with evident disgust.

Malfoy draws himself up, nostrils flaring. "I'm on the Inquisitorial Squad, Weasel.  I can get you in."

"Like we believe you," snipes Harry angrily.

"Like you have any other choice?" Draco retorts pointedly, daring Harry to defy him.

"I think we should trust him," says Hermione abruptly, standing up. She bites her lip. "We have nothing to lose."

Harry grapples with the idea for several seconds, at war with his principles, his hatred, his love. Seemingly, he come to a decision. Tenderly, he scoops Miranda's body up in his arms.

"You," he jabs a sharp thumb at Draco, "Hermione will point a wand at you the entire time we're walking. You will let us in to Umbridge's office and you will leave." Draco starts to protest. "You will leave, and you will never speak to Miranda again," Harry repeats warningly, as Hermione points her wand at Draco's back, and the five of them march up to Umbridge's.

Draco unlocks the door by murmuring a special incantation, standing there as Hermione, Ron, and Harry, carrying Miranda, file in. He lingers at the entrance, looking longingly at Miranda. "Just— just make sure she's okay," he says pathetically. "I just— I want— make sure she's okay." Harry slams the door in his face. No sooner are they inside when Miranda's eyes begin to roll violently back in her head. She twitches on the floor, limbs jerking unnaturally.

Screams. All she can hear are screams. She is blinded with an unbearable pain. Whispers, a slithering voice hissing so loudly, She can't escape it. Can't escape it. Crucio! Kill. Kill. Sirius Black. Kill

Hermione is aghast "What's happening to her?" she shrieks, grabbing hold of Ron's arm. At this very moment, Harry falls to the ground himself, seizing his scar. He writhes there, muttering incoherently.

"Bloody hell!" Ron cries out, both Miranda and Harry now incapacitated. And just as soon as it had started, it stops. Miranda jerks awake, stomach turning over itself. She gags, swallowing down bile.

Harry pulls himself up from the rug, convulsing. "Voldemort's got Sirius," he croaks hoarsely.

"What?"
"How d'you — ?"
"Saw it. Just now."
"But — but where? How?" says Hermione, whose face was white.

"I dunno how," says Harry. "But I know exactly where. There's a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass balls, and they're at the end of row ninety-seven . . . He's trying to use Sirius to get whatever it is he wants from in there. . . . He's torturing him. . . . Says he'll end by killing him . . ." Harry's voice is shaking, as were his knees. He moves over to one of Umbridge's chairs and sits down on it, trying to master himself. "How're we going to get there?" he asks them.
There is a moment's silence. Then Miranda says weakly, "Get there?"

"Get to the Department of Mysteries, so we can rescue Sirius!" Harry says loudly.

"But — Harry . . ." says Miranda quietly.
"What? What?" says Harry. Miranda knows he does not understand their reactions.
"Harry," says Hermione in a rather frightened voice, "er . . . how . . . how did Voldemort get into the Ministry of Magic without anybody realizing he was there?"
"How do I know?" bellows Harry impatiently. "The question is how we're going to get in there!"
"But . . . Harry, think about this," says Hermione, taking a step toward him, "it's five o'clock in the afternoon. . . . The Ministry of Magic must be full of workers. . . . How would Voldemort and Sirius have got in without being seen? Harry . . . they're probably the two most wanted wizards in the world. . . . You think they could get into a building full of Aurors undetected?"

"I dunno, Voldemort used an Invisibility Cloak or something!" Harry shouts. "Anyway, the Department of Mysteries has always been completely empty whenever I've been —"

"You've never been there, Harry," says Hermione quietly. "You've dreamed about the place, that's all."

"They're not normal dreams!" Harry shouts in her face, standing up and taking a step closer to her in turn. "How d'you explain Ron's dad then, what was all that about, how come I knew what had happened to him?"

"He's got a point," says Ron quietly, looking at Hermione. Miranda hates to admit it, but she agrees.

"But this is just — just so unlikely!" says Hermione desperately. "Harry, how on earth could Voldemort have got hold of Sirius when he's been in Grimmauld Place all the time? Look, I'm sorry," cries Hermione, "we've got no proof for any of this, no proof Voldemort and Sirius are even there —"

"Hermione, Harry's seen them!" says Ron, rounding on her.

"Okay," she says, looking frightened yet determined, "I've just got to say this. . . ."

"What?"

"You . . . This isn't a criticism, Harry! But you do . . . sort of . . . I mean — don't you think you've got a bit of a — a — saving-people- thing?" she says. Miranda also agrees with this. She doesn't know what to believe. And her own vision certainly wasn't helping either case. Not the anyone had asked her about it yet.

He glares at her. "And what's that supposed to mean, a 'saving- people-thing'?"

"Well . . . you . . ." She looks more apprehensive than ever. "I mean . . . last year, for instance . . . in the lake . . . during the Tournament . . . you shouldn't have . . . I mean, you didn't need to save that little Delacour girl. . . . You got a bit . . . carried away . . ." A wave of hot, prickly anger passes over Harry's face.

". . . I mean, it was really great of you and everything," says Hermione quickly, looking positively petrified at the look on Harry's face. "Everyone thought it was a wonderful thing to do —"

"That's funny," says Harry in a trembling voice, rounding on Miranda "because I definitely remember Miranda saying I always had to be the hero. . . . Is that what you think this is? You reckon I want to act the hero again?"

"Hey!" Miranda cries. She didn't mean it like that. He's twisting her words.

"No, no, no!" says Hermione, looking aghast. "That's not what I mean at all!"

"Well, spit out what you've got to say, because we're wasting time here!" Harry shouts.

"I'm trying to say — Voldemort knows you, Harry! He knows you're the — the sort of person who'd go to Sirius's aid! What if he's just trying to get you into the Department of Myst — ?"

"Hermione, it doesn't matter if he's done it to get me there or not — they've taken McGonagall to St. Mungo's, there isn't anyone left from the Order at Hogwarts who we can tell, and if we don't go, Sirius is dead!" Harry lets out a roar of frustration. Hermione actually steps back from him, looking alarmed.

"What did you see, McGonagall?" asks Ron, despreftaly trying to dissipate the tension in the room.

"I— I saw the Department of Mysteries too," she tells them anxiously. She stops, hesitating, unable to meet Harry's eye, "But— but it was empty."

"We see things from different perspectives!" Harry protests angrily, "That doesn't mean that Sirius isn't there!"

"He's right," Miranda acknowledges, massaging her temples. "Our connections are completely different. And I— I could hear him. The thought most clear was— kill..." Ron pales.

Hermione is uncertain, "Harry but— what if your dream was, well...just a dream?"

"You don't get it!" Harry shouts at her. "I'm not having nightmares, I'm not just dreaming! What d'you think all the Occlumency was for, why d'you think Dumbledore wanted me prevented from seeing these things? Because they're REAL, Hermione — Sirius is trapped — I've seen him — Voldemort's got him, and no one else knows, and that means we're the only ones who can save him, and if you don't want to do it, fine, but I'm going, understand?"

"But Harry, you've just said it," Miranda defends Hermione fiercely "Dumbledore wanted you to learn to shut these things out of your mind, if you'd done Occlumency properly you'd never have seen this —"

"YOU STOPPED OCCLUMENCY TOO!" Harry reminds her defiantly. "IF YOU THINK I'M JUST GOING TO ACT LIKE I HAVEN'T SEEN —"

"Sirius told you there was nothing more important than you learning to close your mind!"

"WELL, I EXPECT HE'D SAY SOMETHING DIFFERENT IF HE KNEW WHAT I'D JUST —"

The classroom door opens. Harry, Ron, Miranda and Hermione whip around. Ginny walks in, looking curious, followed by Luna, who as usual looks as though she has drifted in accidentally.

"Hi," says Ginny uncertainly. "We recognized Harry's voice — what are you yelling about?"

"Never you mind," says Harry roughly.
Ginny raises her eyebrows. "There's no need to take that tone with me," she says coolly. "I was only wondering whether I could help."
"Well, you can't," says Harry shortly.

"Harry!" reprimands Miranda, stunned by his behavior.
"You're being rather rude, you know," says Luna serenely. Harry swears and turned away.
"Wait," says Miranda "Wait . . . Harry, they can help." Harry, Hermione, and Ron look at her. "Listen," she says urgently, "Harry, we need to establish whether Sirius really has left headquarters —"
"I've told you, I saw —"
"Harry, I'm begging you, please!" says Miranda desperately. She takes his fcae in her hands, pleading with him, "Please let's just check that Sirius isn't at home before we go charging off to London — if we find out he's not there then I swear I won't try and stop you, I'll come, I'll d-do whatever it takes to try and save him —"

"Sirius is being tortured NOW!" shouted Harry. "We haven't got time to waste —"

"But if this is a trick of Voldemort's — Harry, we've got to check, we've got to —"

"How?" Harry demanded. "How're we going to check?"

"We'll have to use Umbridge's fire and see if we can contact him," says Miranda, shutting her eyes for a moment in an attempt to rid her overwhelming dizziness. Her cheek is till throbbing in addition to her head, blood dried now, and a bruise beginning to blossom on her cheekbone. Her entire body hut from her fall earlier, and her hair is streaked with blood and dirt, but she can't be bothered with any of that now. Determinedly, she twists her matted hair into a tight ponytail. "We'll draw Umbridge away again, but we'll need lookouts, and that's where we can use Ginny and Luna."

Though clearly struggling to understand what is going on, Ginny says immediately, "Yeah, we'll do it."

"Okay," Harry says aggressively Miranda, "Okay, if you can think of a way of doing this quickly, I'm with you, otherwise I'm going to the Department of Mysteries right now —"

"Right," says Hermione, slowly coming to terms with the idea. She twists her hands together and paces up and down. "Right . . . well . . . One of us has to go and find Umbridge and — and send her off in the wrong direction, keep her away from her office. They could tell her — I don't know — that Peeves is up to something awful as usual. . . ."

"I'll do it," says Ron at once. "I'll tell her Peeves is smashing up the Transfiguration department or something, it's miles away from her office. Come to think of it, I could probably persuade Peeves to do it if I met him on the way. . . ."

It is a mark of the seriousness of the situation that Hermione makes no objection to the smashing up of the Transfiguration department. "Okay," she says, her brow furrowed as she continues to pace.

Miranda grips the side of Unbridge's desk, steadying herself, "We need to keep students away from her office while we force entry, or some Slytherin's bound to go and tip her off. . . ."

"Luna and I can stand at either end of the corridor," says Ginny promptly, "and warn people not to go down there because someone's let off a load of Garroting Gas." Miranda is surprised and mildly impressed at the readiness with which Ginny has come up with this lie. Ginny merely shrugs and says, "Fred and George were planning to do it before they left."

"Okay," Harry nods. "Alright then." He gestures to Hermione and Miranda, "Go on, go with Luna and Ginny, I don't want either of you—"

Miranda nearly laughs out loud, staring Harry down with a look of steel. "If you think, for one fucking second that we're leaving you here all alone you really are an idiot," she tells him, holding her ground.

"Ditto," says Hermione, voice just as firm. "Someone has to keep you from going postal."

Harry, too panicked to argue, dashes over to the fireplace, seizes the pot of Floo powder, and throws a pinch into the grate, causing emerald flames to burst into life there. He kneels down quickly, thrusts his head into the dancing fire, and cries, "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

Miranda is holding her breath, her and Hermione holding each other's hands tightly. Her fingers are crossed behind her back.

"Sirius?" he shouts. "Sirius, are you there?" Please be there. Please be there. Miranda doesn't know what Harry will do if he's not. Actually, she does. And that's what scares her. "Who's there?" he calls. "Where's he gone? Where's he gone, Kreacher?"
Kreacher? That does not bode well. Does that mean that Sirius is really gone? Miranda wonders if anyone is in the house. Her mother. Remus. Mateo. Where are they? Have they been captured too?
"I'm warning you!" says Harry, evidently sharing Miranda's questions. "What about Lupin? Mad-Eye? Any of them, are any of them here? Where has Sirius gone?" Harry yells after the elf. "Kreacher, has he gone to the Department of Mysteries? Kreacher, you—" 

Miranda does not hear the rest of Harry's sentence, feeling a great pain at the top of her head. She flails her limbs, trying to get at her wand, but her arms are pinned behind her back by a gleeful Pansy Parkinson. Her laugh is sycophantic as she presses her wand to the hollow of Miranda's throat with horrible abruptness. The girl is bending Miranda's neck back as far as it will go as though she is going to slit it. Hermione is pinioned against the wall next to her by Millicent Bullstrode, wheezing slightly and red in the face. Miranda watches helplessly as Umbridge drags Harry out of the fireplace, him choking on ash.

"You think," she whispers, "that I am going to let a foul, scavenging little creature enter my office without my knowledge? I had Stealth Sensoring Spells placed all around my doorway after the last one got in, you foolish boy. Take his wand," she barks at Blaise Zabini. "Hers too . . ." Miranda feels Pansy groping at her robes, and the sensation of her wand being removed. She hears a scuffle over by the door and knows that Hermione has just had her wand wrested from her as well.

"I want to know why you are in my office," says Umbridge, shaking the fist clutching his hair so that he staggers.

"I was — trying to get my Firebolt!" Harry croaks.

"Liar. Your Firebolt is under strict guard in the dungeons, as you very well know, Potter. You had your head in my fire. With whom have you been communicating?"

"No one —" says Harry, trying to pull away from her.

"Liar!" shouts Umbridge. She throws him from her, and he slams into the desk. Miranda winces, eyes filling with angry tears at the sight.  There is a commotion outside and several large Slytherins enter, each gripping Ron, Ginny, and  Luna. All three of them have been gagged.

"Got 'em all," says Warrington, shoving Ron roughly forward into the room. "That one." he pokes a thick finger at Luna, "tried to stop me taking her," he points at Ginny, who is trying to kick the shins of the large Slytherin girl holding her, "so I brought her along too."

"Good, good," says Umbridge, watching Ginny's struggles. "Well, it looks as though Hogwarts will shortly be a Weasley-free zone, doesn't it?" She cackles to herself maniacally. "Very well," she says, and she pulls out her wand. "Very well . . . I am left with no alternative. . . . This is more than a matter of school discipline. . . . This is an issue of Ministry security. . . . Yes . . . yes . . ."

She seems to be talking herself into something. She is shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot, staring at Harry, beating her wand against her empty palm and breathing heavily. A horrible feeling is growing in the pit of Miranda's stomach. "You are forcing me, Potter. . . I do not want to," says Umbridge, still moving restlessly on the spot, "but sometimes circumstances justify the use. . .I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice. . ." Pansy looks hungrily at the scene. "The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue," says Umbridge quietly.

"No!" shrieks Miranda instantly. "Professor Umbridge — it's illegal—" Pansy promptly slaps her across the face, with stinging accuracy, shutting her up. Miranda is forced to bite down on her own tongue to keep from howling. Pansy would not get that satisfaction.

"Don't you touch her!" Harry thunders with renewed ferocity. "Don't hurt her!"

Umbridge takes no notice, an evil smile lighting up her frog like features and pallid face. "Or maybe, there's a more effective method to get you to talk." Umbridge thrusts Harry at Pansy, "Give the girl  here." Miranda finds herself taken into Umbridge's hands, her fingernails digging into Miranda's skin. There is a nasty, eager, excited look on her face that Miranda has never seen before. She raises her wand. Hermione lets out a strangled sort of gasp, whimpering.

Harry is foaming at the mouth "No!" he cries desperately. "Leave her alone— I'll talk—don't—"

"Harry, no!" Miranda manages insistently, lip trembling.

Taking a deep breath, Umbridge began, "Cruc —"

"Stupefy!" An angry voice shouts from the doorway, a blinding jet of red light filling the room. Stunned, Pansy Parkinson falls to the floor, freeing Harry. To Miranda's bewilderment, it is Neville, standing in the doorway, chin lifted in a defiant stance. In the next few seconds, several things occur: Harry swiftly tosses Miranda her wand from Pansy's unconscious body, and she uses it to disarm both Warrington and Bullstrode, setting Ron and Hermione free to hex Ginny and Luna's captors. Umbridge grips her hair, pulling Miranda back, violent nature rising true to the chaos occurring around her. Her control is unraveling, and fast.

Miranda promptly drives her elbow into the woman's gut as hard as she possibly can. Umbridge yowls, grasp loosening for just a moment. That moment is enough for Harry to disarm her and for Miranda to whirl around and punch her in the face. Her fist sinks into Umbridge's nose with a satisfying crack, and the stout woman topples over and hits the floor. Ginny stuns her, and adds a Bat Bogey Hex to the mix for good measure.

"Come on!" shouts Harry, grabbing Miranda's hand. The seven of them run out of the office, shutting the door to the six injured people behind them and not looking back.

Breathing heavily, they come to a halt on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.

Ginny blows on the tip of her wand like a gun, grinning just a bit, "That certainly felt good."

"Brilliant Bat Bogey Hex," commends Miranda, nudging her.

"Had nothing on your right hook," says Ginny, smiling. "Nice touch, by the way."

"I didn't know you could punch like that," Harry murmurs, raising his eyebrows almost fearfully. Miranda cracks her knuckles.

"Anyway, never mind that now," says Ron hurriedly. "Harry, what did you find out in the fire? Has You-Know- Who got Sirius or — ?"

"Yes," says Harry, as his scar gives 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 fall silent, looking rather scared. The problem facing them seems insurmountable.

"Well, we'll have to fly, won't we?" says Luna in the closest thing to a matter-of-fact voice Miranda has ever heard her use.

"Okay," says 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!" says Ginny.
"Yeah, but you're not coming," says Ron angrily.

"Ron, we could use her," Miranda interjects sternly. "It's because of her Umbridge's stuck back in her office with giant flying bogeys attacking her —"

"You're not coming either!" retorts Harry. "It's too dangerous. I'll go to the Ministry myself."

Miranda stops him, "There is no way you're going to the Ministry alone, Ron, Hermione and I are going with you!"

"He's my godfather. It's my issue, I'm not—"
"Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!" says Miranda indignantly, crossing her arms.

Harry sighs heavily, arguing, "Miranda, I can't let you do that. I'm not putting you at risk—"

Miranda has never been more offended in her life. Her mouth falls open in utter outrage. "Let me?" she repeats. The nerve of this boy. "Let me?! Do you want me to punch you?" How dare he?  "I'm going." She stares him down, stubborn as ever.

"Me too," Hermione says.

"Me three," Ron stands with the two girls, "And as for the whole putting us at risk thing, don't worry mate, we're used to it by now. We're coming with you. End of story."

"We're coming too," Ginny says defiantly.

"You most certainly are not." Ron began, "You're too—"

"I'm three years older than you were when you fought You-Know- Who over the Sorcerer's Stone," she says fiercely.

"Yeah, but —"

"We were all in the D.A. together," says 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 —" says Harry impatiently.
"Then we should come too," says Neville simply. "We want to help."

"That's right," says Luna, smiling happily.

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway," says Harry frustratedly, "because we still don't know how to get there —"

"I thought we'd settled that?" says Luna maddeningly. "We're flying!"

"Look," says Ron, barely containing his anger, "you might be able to fly without a broomstick but the rest of us can't sprout wings when- ever we —"

"There are other ways of flying than with broomsticks," says Luna serenely, pointing at a patch of glade in front of them. Miranda cannot see anything, but Harry's eyes light up.

"Of course," he murmurs, hand stretching out in a patting motion.

"Is it those mad horse things?" says Ron uncertainly, staring at a point slightly to the left of whatever Harry was patting. "Those ones you can't see unless you've watched someone snuff it?"

"Yeah," says Harry.
"How many are there?" asks Miranda uncertainly
"Just two."
"Well, we need four" says Hermione, who was still looking a little shaken, but determined just the same.
"Five, Hermione," says Ginny, scowling.
"I think there are seven of us, actually," says Luna calmly, counting.

"Don't be stupid, we can't all go!" says Harry angrily. "Look, you three" — he points at Neville, Ginny, and Luna — "you're not in- volved in this, you're not —" They burst into more protests. Miranda's head aches, and she notices Harry pressing his index finger to his scar. They're running out of time. "Okay, fine, it's your choice," he says curtly. "But unless we can find more thestrals you're not going to be able —"

"Oh, more of them will come," says Miranda confidently, still unsure about where the creatures are located.

"What makes you think that?"

"Because in case you hadn't noticed, I'm covered in blood," she says coolly, "and we know Hagrid lures thestrals with raw meat, so that's probably why these two turned up in the first place. . . ."

"Okay, then," he says, a bright idea occurring. "Ron and I will take these two and go ahead, and you and Hermione can stay here with them three and you'll attract more thestrals —"

"I'm not staying behind!" says Miranda furiously.

"Neither am I!" Hermione echoes, equally upset.

"There's no need," says Luna, smiling. "Look, here come more now. . . . You must really smell. . . ."

"All right," he says angrily, "pick one and get on, then."

Harry pulls her over to the other thestrals standing around and helps her onto the backs of their mounts. Luna and Neville assist the other three. Miranda swallows nervously as Harry winds her hand tightly in the beast's mane, unable to see it herself.

"This is mad," Ron says faintly, 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," says Harry darkly. "We all ready, then?" They all nod "Okay . . ."

Miranda does not think she has ever moved so fast: The thestral streaks over the castle, its wide wings hardly beating. The cooling air is slapping Miranda's face; eyes screwed up against the rushing wind, she looks around and saw her six fellows soaring along behind him, each of them bent as low as possible into the neck of their thestral to protect themselves from its slipstream.
Miranda's stomach gives a jolt. The thestral's head is suddenly pointing toward the ground and she has actually slid forward a few inches along its neck. They are descending at last, annd she hear Hermione shriek behind her. Fortunately, she does not see anyone falling from the sky.

She can see the tops of buildings, streams of headlights like luminous insect eyes, squares of pale yellow that were windows. Quite suddenly, it seems, they are hurtling toward the pavement. Miranda grips the thestral with every last ounce of her strength, braced for a sudden impact, but the horse touches the dark ground as lightly as a shadow. Miranda looks around at the street.

Ron lands a short way away and topples immediately off his thestral onto the pavement. "Never again," he says, struggling to his feet. "Never, ever again . . . that was the worst —"

Hermione and Ginny touch down on either side of Miranda. Both slide off their mounts a little more gracefully than Ron, though with similar expressions of relief at being back on firm ground. Harry dismounts smoothly, as well as Luna, while Neville jumps down, shaking.

"Over here," Harry beckons, leading the way quickly to a battered telephone box and opening the door. They all squash in. It's rather tight squeeze, and Ron's knee is pressed uncomfortably into the small of Miranda's back, and her nose is pressed very near Ginny's ear. In a different situation, it might have been funny. "Whoever's nearest the receiver, dial six two four four two!" he says.

Ron does it, his arm bent bizarrely to reach the dial. As it whirs back into place a cool female voice sounds inside the box, "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Harry Potter, Miranda McGonagall, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger," Harry says very quickly, "Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood . . . We're here to save someone, unless your Ministry can do it first!"

"Thank you," says the cool female voice. "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes." Half a dozen badges slide out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appear. Miranda scoops them up and hands them mutely to Harry over Ginny's head. "Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

"Fine!" Harry says loudly. Miranda clutches her head, the pain worsening. "Now can we move?" The floor of the telephone box shudders and the pavement rises up past the glass windows of the telephone box. With a dull grinding noise they sink down into the depths of the Ministry of Magic. Miranda bends her knees and holds her wand as ready as she can in such cramped conditions, peering through the glass to see whether anybody is waiting for them in the Atrium, but it seems to be completely empty.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening," says the woman's voice.

The only sound in the Atrium is the steady rush of water from the golden fountain, where jets from the wands of the witch and wizard, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat, and the house-elf's ears continue to gush into the surrounding pool.

"Come on," says Harry quietly and the seven of them sprint off down the hall, Harry in the lead, past the fountain. Miranda's feeling of foreboding increases as they pass through  golden gates. Harry turnw toward a plain black door. "Let's go," he whispers, and he leads the way down the corridor "Okay, listen," says Harry, stopping again within six feet of the door. "Maybe . . . maybe a couple of people should stay here as a — as a lookout, and —"

"And how're we going to let you know something's coming?" asks Miranda, her eyebrows raised. "You could be miles away."

"We're coming with you, Harry," says Hermione.
"Let's get on with it," says Ron firmly.

Harry looks as though he'd quite like to stun them all and shove them in a closet just so that he could continue on by himself. He struggles for a beat, "Okay— fine— but at the first sign of trouble you run? Hear me?"

"We're not leaving," Miranda informs him, for what must be the hundredth time. She feels like a broken record. She takes his face in her hands, "Hear me?" Harry turns to the door and walks forward. It swings open, and he leads the others over the threshold.

They are standing in a large, circular room. Everything in here is black including the floor and ceiling — identical, unmarked, handle-less black doors are set at intervals all around the black walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue, their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor so that it looks as though there is dark water underfoot.

"Someone shut the door," Harry mutters.

There were surrounded by so many doors, that Miranda could barely see straight. She prays Harry knows which one it is, as she sees him try door after door. A felling of intense claustrophobia is beginning to set in, and she isn't the only one. Neville is practically hyperventilating.

"This is it!" Harry exclaims in a hushed toned diamond bright light shining from one of the doors. They follow him inside. "This is it," Harry says again. "It's through here —"

Miranda's heart is now pumping so hard and fast she feels it must interfere with her mind. They all have their wands out and look suddenly serious and anxious. The place is high as a church and full of nothing but towering shelves covered in small, dusty, glass orbs. They glimmer dully in the light issuing from more candle brackets set at intervals along the shelves. The room is very cold. And she shivers as they edge down the rows of endless shelves, Harry muttering to himself.

"Where is he?" Harry frantically searches every row.

"Harry I don't like this," Hermione whispers fearfully, "I think we should go."

"No!" Harry snarls forcefully, "He has to be somewhere."

"Harry," Neville is standing very still, looking at one of the orbs, "this one has your name on it." Harry joins Neville, peering closely at the object. Slowly, he reaches out his hand to grab it.

"Harry!" Hermione warns, "Don't! It could be a—" But it is too late.

A devious chuckle reverberates around them, and Miranda feels a chill go up her spine. Lucius Malfoy, flanked by Lestrange and Goyle, appears out of the shadows.

"Give it to me Potter." His lips curls. "Give it to me and no one will get hurt." The three death eaters approach them menacingly.

"Harry..." Miranda breathes, her blood is ice.

"I know." He gulps. "All of you get behind me, wait for my signal."

Wordlessly he holds up his fingers, "3,2,1..."

Six different voices bellow "REDUCTO!" Six curses fly in six different directions and the shelves opposite them explode as they hit. The towering structure sways as a hundred glass spheres burst apart, pearly-white figures unfurled into the air and floated there, their voices echoing from who knew what long-dead past amid the torrent of crashing glass and splintered wood now raining down upon the floor —

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and as the shelves swayed precariously and more glass spheres began to pour from above, he seizes a handful of Miranda's robes and drags her forward as chunks of shelf and shards of glass thunder down upon them. She feels a sharp pain in her thigh as a shard of glass strikes her.

A Death Eater lunges forward through the cloud of dust and Harry elbows him hard in the masked face. They are all yelling, there are cries of pain, thunderous crashes as the shelves collapse upon themselves. A hand catches Miranda by the shoulder, blood obscuring her vision. She runs faster, hearing Neville shout "Stupefy!" and the hand releases her at once. The door through which they had come is ajar straight ahead, Miranda can see the glittering light. She pelts through it, waiting for the others to hurtle over the threshold before slamming the door behind them —

"Colloportus!" gasps Miranda and the door seals itself with an odd squelching noise.

"Where — where are the others?" gasps Harry. Miranda had thought that Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Ginny had been ahead of them, that they would be waiting in this room, but there is nobody there.

"They must have gone the wrong way!" whispers Miranda, terror in her face. She has never been so scared in her life. "What do we do?" Miranda asks Harry, trembling from head to foot.

"Well, we don't stand here waiting for them to find us, for a start," says Harry. "Let's get away from this door. . . ."

They run, quietly as they can, toward the exit into the circular hallway at the far end of the room. They are almost there when Miranda hears something large and heavy collide with the door she had charmed shut.

"Stand aside!" says a rough voice. "Alohomora!" As the door flies open, Harry, Miranda, and Neville dive under desks. They can see the bottom of the two Death Eaters' robes drawing nearer, their feet moving rapidly.

"STUPEFY !" Miranda yells, right as the feet reach them. The jet of red light flies right over the Death Eater's shoulder and hits a glass-fronted cabinet on the wall full of variously shaped hour- glasses. The cabinet fell to the floor and burst apart, glass flying everywhere. Miranda ducks down behind another desk, a curse from a masked man throwing Harry back into a bookcase and delving her into a cascade of heavy books. The back of Miranda's head slams into the stone wall behind her, tiny lights burst in front of his eyes, and for a moment she is too dizzy and bewildered to react.

"WE'VE GOT HIM!" calls the Death Eater advancing on Harry. "IN AN OFFICE OFF —"

"Silencio!" cries Miranda protectively, and the man's voice is extinguished.

"Petrificus Totalus!" shouts Harry, as the second Death Eater raises his wand. His arms and legs snap together and he falls forward, facedown onto the rug at their feet, stiff as a board and unable to move at all.

Miranda smiles in spite of herself, letting out a sigh fo relief, "Nice one, Ha—" The Death Eater she has just struck dumb makes a sudden slashing movement with his wand from which flew a streak of what looks like purple flame. It passes right across Miranda's chest; and everything goes black.

"Miranda!" Harry falls to his knees beside her as Neville crawls rapidly toward her from under the desk, his wand held up in front of him. The Death Eater kicks out hard at Neville's head as he emerges — his foot connects with his face — Neville gives a howl of pain and recoils, clutching his mouth and nose. Harry twists around, his own wand held high.

A whine of panic inside his head is preventing him thinking properly. He has one hand on Miranda's shoulder, which is still warm, yet does not dare look at her properly. Don't let her be dead, don't let her be dead, it's my fault if she's dead. . . .

"Whaddever you do, Harry," says Neville fiercely from under the desk, lowering his hands to show a clearly broken nose and blood pouring down his mouth and chin, "don'd gib it to him!"

Then there is a crash outside the door, and Dolohov looks over his shoulder.

Harry seizes his chance: "PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" The spell hits Dolohov before he can block it, and he topples forward across his comrade, both of them rigid as boards and unable to move an inch.

"Miranda," Harry says at once, shaking her. "Miranda, wake up. . . ."

"Whaddid he do to her?" says Neville, crawling out from under the desk again to kneel at her other side, blood streaming from his rapidly swelling nose.

"I dunno. . . ." Harry strokes Miranda's crumpled, unmoving figure for the second time that day. He shouldn't have let her come. He should've chained her to Gryffindor Tower. Anything. Anything to prevent this. He presses his nose in her blood streaked hair, not wanting to look at her bruised and bloodied skin. It was his fault. All his fault.

Neville gropes for Miranda's wrist, "Dat's a pulse, Harry, I'b sure id is. . ."
Such a powerful wave of relief sweeps through Harry that for a moment he felt light-headed."She's alive?"
"Yeah, I dink so. . . ."

Slowly, Miranda starts to return to consciousness. Her eyesight blurry, she is unable to make out the figures leaning over her.

"Miranda?" says Harry breathlessly, grabbing her hand.

"Harry?" He crushes her into a massive embrace, kissing her all over her face. Her eyelids and her cheeks and her nose. Her fingertips and the back of her hands.

"Thank god," Harry murmurs.

"Ow," says Miranda weakly, coughing.
Their relief is momentary, a barrage of Death Eater setting upon them once more. Miranda catapults to her feet, vision still compromised. She can barely see five feet in front of her. Her throat burns, and ehr skin is raw. Every part of her body is begging her to stop but she presses on, thinking she's following Harry and Neville's calls. She can hear footsteps behind her and then— "Colloportus!" Miranda smacks straight into something fleshy, toppling to the hard, tiled floor with a sickening crack of her ankle. She inhales sharply, pain stabbing through her. "Oh my god— Miranda?" Hermione's voice. Miranda blinks her eyes furiously, forcing the view in front of her to come into focus. Luna, Ginny, and Ron are standing before her anxiously.

"Where are Harry and Neville?" Ginny prompts urgently.

Miranda is caught off guard by the question. They aren't here? "I— I— was just with them— I—" She hoists herself up to standing, white with effort. Ron giggles. "Is he alright?" she frowns at Hermione questioningly.

"I don't know. They hit him with something when we got separated," Hermione explains, swiveling her head in every possible direction. The room they were in was deserted, but they could hear the sounds of the fight echoing outside. The weren't safe. Not by a mile. Suddenly, the door crashes open, two figures hurtling inside.

"Ron!" croaks Harry, dashing toward them. "Hermione--are you all--?"

"Harry," says Ron, giggling weakly, lurching forward.  "There you are. . . . Ha ha ha . . . You look funny, Harry. . . . You're all messed up. . . . Something dark is trickling from the corner of his mouth. Next moment his knees have given way, but he still clutches the front of Harry's robes, so that Harry is pulled into a kind of bow.

"Miranda?" Harry says fearfully. "What happened?" But Miranda shakes her head and slides down the nearest wall into a sitting position, panting and holding her ankle.

"I think her ankle's broken, I heard something crack," whispers Luna, who is bending over her and who alone seems to be unhurt. "Four of them chased us into a dark room full of planets, it was a very odd place, some of the time we were just floating in the dark —"

"Harry, we saw Uranus up close!" says Ron, still giggling feebly. "Get it, Harry? We saw Uranus — ha ha ha —" A bubble of blood grows at the corner of Ron's mouth and bursts.

"Anyway, we ran in here," Ginny continues for Luna. "I used the Reductor Curse, but Miranda smashed right into one of them and—" She gestures hopelessly at Miranda who is breathing in a very shallow way, her eyes still closed.

"And what about Ron?" says Harry fearfully, as Ron continues to giggle, still hanging off the front of Harry's robes.

"I don't know what they hit him with," says Hermione sadly, "but he's gone a bit funny, I could hardly get him along at all. . . ."

"We've got to get out of here," says Harry firmly. "Hermione, Luna, can you help Miranda?"

"Yes," says Hermione, sticking her wand behind her ear for safekeeping, putting an arm around Miranda's waist and pulling her up. Luna at her other side.

"It's only my ankle, I can do it myself!" says Miranda impatiently, but next moment she has collapsed sideways and grabs Luna for support. Harry pulls Ron's arm over his shoulder heaving him toward a door; they are within a few feet of it when another door across the hall bursts open and three Death Eaters speed into the hall, led by Bellatrix Lestrange.

"There they are!" she shrieks. Stunning Spells shoot across the room: Harry smashes his way through the door ahead, flings Ron unceremoniously to Ginny and Neville, and ducks back to help Miranda in with Hermione and Luna. They are  all over the threshold just in time to slam the door against Bellatrix.

"Colloportus!" shouts Miranda, and she hears three bodies slam into the door on the other side.

"It doesn't matter!" says a man's voice. "There are other ways in — WE'VE GOT THEM, THEY'RE HERE!"

"Hermione —Ginny— Luna—  Neville — help me!"

The five of them tore around the room, sealing the doors as they went. There are footsteps running along behind the doors. Luna and Neville are bewitching the doors along the opposite wall — then, as Miranda finally manages to pull herself up again, she hears Luna cry, "Collo — aaaaaaaaargh . . ." Miranda turns in time to see her flying through the air. She hits a desk, sliding over its surface and onto the floor on the other side where she lies sprawled. Miranda abandons her standing position, crawling to Luna helplessly.

"Get Potter!" shrieks Bellatrix, and she ran at him.

"Hey!" says Ron, who has staggered to his feet and is now tottering drunkenly toward Harry, giggling. "Hey, Harry, there are brains in here, ha ha ha, isn't that weird, Harry?"

"Ron, get out of the way, get down —" Miranda screams from her immobilized position on the floor. Beside her, Hermione falls to the ground, hit by a jet of light. Her head knocks back against a metal pole with a horrible thud.
But Ron has already pointed his wand at the tank. "Honest, Harry, they're brains — look — Accio Brain!" A brain bursts from the green liquid like a leaping fish. "Ha ha ha, Harry, look at it —" says Ron, watching it disgorge its gaudy innards. "Harry, come and touch it, bet it's weird —"

"RON, NO!"

Ron catches the brain in his outstretched hands, before anyone can get to him. The moment they make contact with his skin, the tentacles begin wrapping themselves around Ron's arms like ropes.

"Harry, look what's happen — no — no, I don't like it — no, stop — stop —" The thin ribbons are spinning around Ron's chest now. He tugs and tears at them as the brain is pulled tight against him like an octopus's body.

"Diffindo!" yells Harry, trying to sever the feelers wrapping themselves tightly around Ron before his eyes, but they will not break. Ron falls over, still thrashing against his bonds.

"Harry, it'll suffocate him!" screams Ginny, then a jet of red light flies from one of the Death Eater's wands and hit her squarely in the face. She keels over sideways and lies there unconscious.

"STUBEFY!" shouts Neville, wheeling around and waving his wand at the oncoming Death Eaters. "STUBEFY, STUBEFY !" Harry and Neville are now the only two left fighting the five Death Eaters, two of whom sent streams of silver light like arrows past them that left craters in the wall behind them. Miranda surveys the room with increasing horror. Luna and Ginny are both unconscious. There is a steady stream of blood pooling beneath Hermione's head and Miranda's own chest is barely rising and falling. Every breath she takes feels like a hot poker being thrust into her heart. Crawling over to Ron, she can see his face going blue, struggling against the brains tentacles. He's choking. Choking to death.

"Diffindo! HARRY! NEVILLE!" Miranda calls desperately. Please let them be okay. Please. We need help. We need help. She thinks as hard as she can, hoping someone will hear her internal cry. She knows it's fruitless. We're in trouble, we're in big trouble.

Miranda drags herself across the floor of the brain room, inching her way towards Ginny, who is stirring. Her her hangs limply, like a dead weight. Using every ounce of her remanding strength, Miranda hoists herself to her feet, gasping in pure agony. Harry. She needs to get to Harry. She raises her wand with much difficulty, pointing it at Ginny, hissing out, "Rennervate."

Ginny's eyes fly open, and she starts to come too, mumbling groggily. Miranda can hear shrieks and screams from the next room over, this room has been deserted. It must be ten on two by now. She can help. She can help. If she can just get there.

"Come on, Gin," Miranda cajoles weakly. "Up you get, that's it."

Ginny groans, clutching her left arm tenderly. It is bent at an awkward angle, and her lip has been sliced through, blood pouring from it. "What— where—?" she pants, gaze unfocused.

"Harry—" says Miranda, breathing heavily. She wobbles, her head spinning from the pain. "Neville—" She can't speak. Can't think. She can barely breathe. In fact, she believes one of her ribs is cracked. Harry. Just get to Harry. She needs to focus on Harry.

Gradually, as Ginny looks around the room, coming to her senses, understanding washes over her. Using her one good arm to balance Miranda upright, the two girls limp their way across to the adjacent open door, witnessing jets of light spewing from it at all angles, hating that they're abandoning a bleeding Hermione, and an unconscious Luna and Ron. Miranda hears Harry cry out, and her heart clenches painfully inside her chest. We're coming. Hold on.

Slowly but surely, the girls are gaining ground, nearly three quarters of the way across. Ginny whispers, "Is Ron—?"

"Alive," Miranda swallows hard, the metallic taste of her own blood filling her mouth. "I slashed the tentacles. And Luna's just knocked out."

"And Hermione—?"

Miranda falters, voice cracking. She bites her lip. "I— um— I don't know."

"There was a lot of blood," Ginny whispers quietly.

"I know." Before Miranda can say anything further, her eyes straining in the darkness, Ginny stumbles. Miranda is  falling down steep stone step after steep stone step, bouncing on every tier until at last, with a crash that knocks all the breath out of her body, she lands flat on her back in a sunken pit where a stone archway stands on its dais. The whole room is ringing with the Death Eaters' laughter, a blanket of dark smoke filling the room. Miranda can't see anything, and she is snatched by a man who covers her mouth when she tries to scream. The man presses his wand against her neck threateningly, cutting off her airway. Struggling for air, she kicks her captor as he leads her by her hair up several steps. He gags her. Choking, she can feel his hot breath in her ear, "I can't wait to see the look on my dirty blood traitor of a cousin's face when she sees your lifeless body." Nott.

The smoke starts to clear, and Miranda can see they are completely surrounded and outnumbered. Another Death Eater has Ginny in his grasp, and Miranda watches as Neville writhes on the floor in front of her. A victim to Bellatrix's curse. Harry is cornered, by several Death Eaters, shouting spells as fats as he can to no avail.

This is it. Miranda thinks to herself in anguish, gazing at the tortured faces of her friends, thinking about the ones they left behind in the other room. This is it.

No, it's not. Another voice enters her mind, and Miranda searches for its owner.

With a surge of white light, the Order of the Phoenix apparates into the room, wands drawn, ready to fight. Sirius rams into the Death Eater who has his claws in Harry, appearing as if out of nowhere.

Miranda takes her opportunity to escape, biting Nott's hand that covers her mouth, hard. He squeals in pain and drops her like a hot stone. Miranda collapses to the floor, her wand clamped tightly in her fist. "You've done an admirable job," Sirius bellows. "Let us take it from here."

"Miranda!" Mateo cries out, spotting her. "Remus she's over here." Her brother kneels at her side, eyes wide and stricken.

Lupin races over to her, his face is pale. "Let's — let's find the others. Where are they all, Miranda?"

"Next door over," Miranda manages, taking several painful inhales. She points, "Ron got attacked by— by a brain— but I— he's okay, him and Luna aren't conscious. And Hermione— Hermione was bleeding. A lot— I don't know—"

She is interrupted as she hears Bellatrix screech, "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry shouts in horror, "SIRIUS NO!"

Seconds before the green light can hit him, Miranda sees her mother yell, "Stupefy!" Juniper's spell hits him, knocking Sirius to the ground, as he narrowly misses the killing curse. "Not on my watch, Lestrange." Juniper growls as the woman wails in frustration.

Remus breathes a huge sigh of relief, gripping Mateo's shoulder, "Round up the others, Mateo." He instructs, turning to Miranda concernedly, "Can you walk?"

"I—" she starts, sucking in a mouthful of air.

"I got it," Mateo cuts her off, slinging her arm over his shoulder just as she had done with Ginny. Ginny. Miranda doesn't see her. Hopefully she's already to safety. Neville too. But no sooner has Mateo hoisted her to her feet that Miranda feels a blinding pain in her head, her vision going blurry. She drops to the floor in agony, Mateo and Harry catching her. Her mind is loud, so loud. She can hear his thoughts again, it's like he's speaking to her.

Voldemort is here.

Juniper tenses, screaming, "Mateo! Miranda! Get to the fireplace now! Go back to Hogwarts! It's me he wants."

"No!" Miranda cries, reaching out.

"GO!" Juniper  addresses Voldemort calmly, "Tom."

Bellatrix hisses with fury, "You will not disrespect the Lord!" She raises her wand, but Voldemort waves her away.

"She's mine Bella," he sneers.He turns to Juniper, "Years ago, I failed to dispose of you, I will not fail again."

"You can't kill me Tom," Juniper says patiently, "because I know the real you."

Voldemort snarls, "This is the real me, and I will kill you just like I killed your husband and your daughter." Juniper reacts as soon as he mention Matthias and Eve, raising her wand, but before she can utter a word.... "AVADA KEDAVRA!" Voldemort sends a jet of green light that hits Juniper, her body crumpling in half.

"NO!!" Miranda howls in grief, lunging at Voldemort. Her and Mateo charge at him, Miranda cannot even feel the pain in her foot anymore. Her mother. Her mother. Remus drags them back. "He killed her!" Miranda shrieks, struggling against Remus. "He killed her!"

"MIRANDA— NO—!" Remus thunders, as Bellatrix slashes her wand.

And for the second time that night— the world goes black.