"Potter, I want to know why you were in my office?" Dolores Umbridge yanked hard on Harry's hair.
And Umbridge wasn't the only one who had arrived.
Harry could now see what was happening to Hermione… She was being brutally pinned to the floor by Pansy Parkinson, who had also snatched her wand. All Harry could do was hope Parkinson wouldn't press too hard.
Draco Malfoy had already taken Harry's wand from Umbridge; he leaned against the windowsill, smirking as he tossed the wand into the air and caught it lazily with one hand.
More Slytherin students filed in. Crabbe had Neville Longbottom in a chokehold, squeezing so tightly Neville looked close to suffocating.
Ron Weasley was dragged in by Goyle; Ron seemed to be under a full Body-Bind, unable to move anything except his eyes.
Luna Lovegood was being held tightly by a large Slytherin girl, and Ginny Weasley was pinned from behind by Montague. They had caught every one of them… not a single person escaped.
Christopher Patrick was the last to enter. He surveyed the office, then reported respectfully to Umbridge, "Headmistress, I believe Potter and all his accomplices are here!"
"You've done wonderfully, absolutely wonderfully…" Umbridge praised excitedly. "I've never seen a student as exceptional as you, Christopher…"
Harry had never imagined he could despise a Hogwarts student this deeply… Not even his hatred for Draco Malfoy came close.
In the Room of Requirement, Christopher had led the group that captured him; in Dumbledore's office, he had produced that parchment that forced Dumbledore to leave; and now, he was about to doom Sirius…
But Umbridge interrupted Harry's thoughts.
"Why exactly were you in my office, Potter?" Umbridge shouted, her voice hoarse with fury.
"I just… I just wanted my Firebolt!" Harry rasped.
Over half a year ago, after the first Quidditch match of the term, Umbridge had found an excuse to confiscate his Firebolt!
"Liar!" Umbridge shook Harry's head violently. "Your Firebolt is locked safely in the dungeons under Mr. Filch's watch. You know that perfectly well, Potter!"
"We came to cause trouble!" a voice called from the other side—Hermione's.
Pinned hard to the floor by Pansy Parkinson, Hermione still forced herself to speak. "We thought if we burned down your office, we could take Fred and George's place as Hogwarts' next prank masters…"
Harry was impressed Hermione could come up with a story so quickly. Judging from Umbridge's expression, she seemed half convinced.
"She's lying!" A sharp, clean voice made Harry's heart plummet again.
"Professor Umbridge, I heard Potter using your fireplace outside, speaking with someone," Christopher Patrick said calmly.
...
"Excellent, very excellent, Christopher!" Umbridge nodded toward Jon, then continued, "Clearly that conversation was extremely important to you… Was it Albus Dumbledore? Or that half-breed Hagrid?"
Harry shook with anger.
"Who I speak with is none of your business," he roared.
Umbridge's slack face tightened.
"I suggest Veritaserum, Professor!" Draco Malfoy offered. "That way Potter will tell the truth!"
"Severus once gave me a vial… but I've used it…" Umbridge muttered.
Pansy Parkinson shot Jon a questioning look, but Jon gave a slight shake of his head.
"Very well…" Umbridge drew her wand. "Very well. I have no choice… This takes priority over school discipline. It concerns the Ministry of Magic's security… Yes…"
Her tone suggested she was trying to convince herself.
Harry didn't understand what she meant, but Hermione seemed to realize something.
"Professor Umbridge, what are you doing?" she shouted.
"You forced my hand, Potter…" Umbridge paced restlessly. "The Cruciatus Curse should make you talk!"
"No…" Hermione screamed. "Professor Umbridge… that's illegal…"
But she couldn't continue.
Christopher Patrick signaled Pansy Parkinson, and Pansy immediately clamped a hand over Hermione's mouth to silence her.
A cold rush of fear swept through Harry.. He remembered their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class in fourth year, when Professor Moody taught them about the Unforgivable Curses.
He thought of Neville—Neville's parents had been driven mad by the Cruciatus Curse.
Would he end up like them…? Harry imagined himself lying in a bed at St. Mungo's.
But no matter what, he wouldn't give Umbridge a single word. He shut his eyes. He could hear Hermione's muffled sobs, and Umbridge's quickened breathing, excited and trembling.
"Cruc—"
"Wait, Professor Umbridge!" Christopher Patrick spoke again.
...
"Christopher?" Umbridge hadn't finished the spell. She turned, startled.
"The Cruciatus Curse is effective, but it may not force the truth from Potter. He could lie to deceive you, Professor Umbridge," Jon said calmly. "But there is another spell—one that can read Potter's thoughts and expose all his secrets."
"Christopher… Don't tell me… you know that spell…" Umbridge stammered.
"A little," Jon replied calmly. "But it's also a Ministry-prohibited spell, so I'll need you to—"
"I permit it!" Umbridge cut him off. "Christopher, I permit you to use any spell here!"
"That's wonderful!"
Jon nodded, drawing his wand and aiming it at Harry.
...
Harry knew exactly what he intended to do.
He forced himself to focus, recalling every word Snape had taught him. He bitterly regretted not working harder on Occlumency…
"Legilimens!"