"Did you hear? Harry—fifth-year Gryffindor—fell asleep during his O.W.L.s…"
"Merlin's beard! Sleeping during an exam that important? Mr. Potter is unbelievable!"
"They say he was even talking in his sleep afterward, scared Professor Marchbanks half to death."
Two younger Ravenclaw girls whispered in the corridor.
But as approaching footsteps echoed and they spotted the figure in the distance, they fled like frightened mice spotting a cat.
Christopher Patrick walked along the first-floor corridor. He had already heard about Mr. Potter's incident… Good news never spreads far, but bad news travels fast. After all, in the history of the O.W.L. exams, very few people had ever fallen asleep mid-test.
He crossed the first-floor corridor and reached the end, stopping before Professor Dolores Umbridge's office. There he saw Montague dozing off.
"Christopher!" At the sight of Jon, Montague's lazy posture vanished instantly. He straightened up and pretended to look serious. "Everything's normal here. Only Professor McGonagall came by earlier—Headmistress Umbridge ordered her to attend some meeting in Warsaw..."
"Good." Jon nodded. "Stay alert. If anyone—or anything—manages to get into the Headmaster's Office again, even I won't be able to protect you from Umbridge."
Ever since that ill-timed shout in the Forbidden Forest, Montague had completely lost Umbridge's trust… Fortunately, Jon hadn't expelled him from the Investigative Task Force. Instead, he kept him on as a guard.
"Of course! I'll keep my eyes wide open at all times—I won't even let a fly slip inside!" Montague promised with great enthusiasm.
"You'd better. And be especially wary of Harry Potter and his friends," Jon reminded him again.
"Understood!" Montague said loudly.
"Get back to it," Jon said, waving him off. As he did, his eyes casually drifted to the portrait behind Montague.
In it, a chubby wizard with a red nose snored loudly…Headmaster Dexter Fortescue in the portrait cracked one eye open and secretly gave Jon an OK gesture.
Jon responded with a subtle look, then walked off.
...
Harry Potter was helped out into the corridor outside the classroom.
"I'm not going… I don't need the Hospital Wing…" Harry struggled to pull away from Professor Marchbanks.
"I know, child…" Professor Marchbanks said gently. "You still want to finish the exam, don't you… It's quite all right. You can rest here a moment, and once you've fully recovered… you might still be able to complete—"
Before she could finish, Harry Potter—having just freed himself—bolted down the corridor. Within seconds, he was gone.
"Professor, I'm done… as done as I can be, I think… I…" his faint voice drifted back down the hall.
The elderly witch, now over a hundred years old, stood there stunned, having no idea what had just happened. She returned to the exam hall and approached the seat Harry had occupied.
Seeing the completely blank History of Magic exam parchment, Professor Marchbanks sighed. She had never encountered a student like this before… She picked up her quill and wrote Harry Potter's name at the top.
With thirty minutes left in the exam, a red-haired boy and a brown-haired girl also hurriedly turned in their papers… The red-haired boy's exam was at least half blank; the girl's, however, was fairly well written.
...
Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger caught up to Harry Potter on the second-floor corridor.
"Harry, what happened?" Hermione asked, clearly panicked. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Are you sick?"
"Where are you going?" Ron added urgently.
"Come with me!" Harry said quickly.
He led them down the corridor into an empty classroom. As soon as Ron and Hermione were inside, he slammed the door shut and leaned back against it.
"Voldemort has Sirius!"
"What?" Hermione shrieked.
"How'd you—" Ron jumped in shock.
"I saw it with my own eyes, just now—after I fell asleep during the exam," Harry said.
"But… but where… how did he catch him?" Hermione's face had gone pale.
"I don't know," Harry said, shaking his head. "But I know exactly where he is. In the Department of Mysteries—there's a room filled with crystal balls. They're at the end of Row 97. There's something Voldemort wants there. He's using Sirius to get it… He's torturing him… He'll kill him in the end!"
Harry realized his voice was trembling. He ran a hand across his face, trying to steady himself.
"How do we get there?" he demanded.
"G-get where?" Ron stammered.
"To the Department of Mysteries," Harry said firmly. "I have to save Sirius. Save my godfather."
Harry didn't understand why Ron and Hermione were staring at him as if he'd said something impossible.
...
It took more than ten minutes, but Harry finally convinced his two friends.
Hermione still didn't agree with the plan, but she couldn't think of a better one. Still, she did everything she could to persuade Harry to contact Sirius Black first, before heading to the Department of Mysteries—just in case it was a trap set by Voldemort.
"Remember what that Slytherin, Patrick, told you? Don't get lost in illusions…" Hermione pleaded.
"He's just a liar! And you actually trust something said by one of Umbridge's lapdogs?" Harry snapped. "Do you know how to contact Sirius quickly?"
"I…" Hermione hesitated.
"You can use Umbridge's fireplace!" a sudden voice called from outside the door, startling all three of them.
Harry yanked the door open. Three people stood outside. The speaker, Ginny Weasley, winked at him.
"The only fireplace in the castle that still connects to the outside world is the one in Umbridge's office."
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, flustered.
"Your voice was loud enough for the whole corridor to hear," Luna Lovegood said cheerfully. "Luckily, only we walked by."
"So you're taking us along to face You-Know-Who, Harry?" Neville Longbottom asked eagerly, looking ready for action.