Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - J. K. Rowling [263]
“Impressive,” Harry said quietly, grinning. “Very impressive … You’ll put Dr. Filibuster out of business, no problem. …”
“Cheers,” whispered George, wiping tears of laughter from his face. “Oh, I hope she tries Vanishing them next. … They multiply by ten every time you try. …”
The fireworks continued to burn and to spread all over the school that afternoon. Though they caused plenty of disruption, particularly the firecrackers, the other teachers did not seem to mind them very much.
“Dear, dear,” said Professor McGonagall sardonically, as one of the dragons soared around her classroom, emitting loud bangs and exhaling flame. “Miss Brown, would you mind running along to the headmistress and informing her that we have an escaped firework in our classroom?”
The upshot of it all was that Professor Umbridge spent her first afternoon as headmistress running all over the school answering the summonses of the other teachers, none of whom seemed able to rid their rooms of the fireworks without her. When the final bell rang and the students were heading back to Gryffindor Tower with their bags, Harry saw, with immense satisfaction, a disheveled and soot-blackened Umbridge tottering sweaty-faced from Professor Flitwick’s classroom.
“Thank you so much, Professor!” said Professor Flitwick in his squeaky little voice. “I could have got rid of the sparklers myself, of course, but I wasn’t sure whether I had the authority. …”
Beaming, he closed his classroom door in her snarling face.
Fred and George were heroes that night in the Gryffindor common room. Even Hermione fought her way through the excited crowd around them to congratulate them.
“They were wonderful fireworks,” she said admiringly.
“Thanks,” said George, looking both surprised and pleased. “Weasleys’ Wildfire Whiz-Bangs. Only thing is, we used our whole stock, we’re going to have to start again from scratch now. …”
“It was worth it, though,” said Fred, who was taking orders from clamoring Gryffindors. “If you want to add your name to the waiting list, Hermione, it’s five Galleons for your Basic Blaze box and twenty for the Deflagration Deluxe. …”
Hermione returned to the table where Harry and Ron were sitting staring at their schoolbags as though hoping their homework might spring out of it and start doing itself.
“Oh, why don’t we have a night off?” said Hermione brightly, as a silver-tailed Weasley rocket zoomed past the window. “After all, the Easter holidays start on Friday, we’ll have plenty of time then. …”
“Are you feeling all right?” Ron asked, staring at her in disbelief.
“Now you mention it,” said Hermione happily, “d’you know … I think I’m feeling a bit … rebellious.”
Harry could still hear the distant bangs of escaped firecrackers when he and Ron went up to bed an hour later, and as he got undressed a sparkler floated past the tower, still resolutely spelling out the word POO.
He got into bed, yawning. With his glasses off, the occasional fire-work still passing the window became blurred, looking like sparkling clouds, beautiful and mysterious against the black sky. He turned onto his side, wondering how Umbridge was feeling about her first day in Dumbledore’s job, and how Fudge would react when he heard that the school had spent most of the day in a state of advanced disruption. … Smiling to himself, he closed his eyes. …
The whizzes and bangs of escaped fireworks in the grounds seemed to be growing more distant … or perhaps he, Harry, was simply speeding away from them. …
He had fallen right into the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries. He was speeding toward the plain black door. … Let it open. … Let it open. …
It did. He was inside the circular room lined with doors. … He crossed it, placed his hand upon an identical door, and it swung inward. …
Now he was in a long, rectangular room