Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - J. K. Rowling [303]
… the first Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards was Pierre Bonaccord, but his appointment was contested by the Wizarding community of Liechtenstein, because —
All around Harry quills were scratching on parchment like scurrying, burrowing rats. The sun was very hot on the back of his head. What was it that Bonaccord had done to offend the wizards of Liechtenstein? Harry had a feeling it had something to do with trolls. … He gazed blankly at the back of Parvati’s head again. If he could only perform Legilimency and open a window in the back of her head and see what it was about trolls that had caused the breach between Pierre Bonaccord and Liechtenstein. …
Harry closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands, so that the glowing red of his eyelids grew dark and cool. Bonaccord had wanted to stop troll-hunting and give the trolls rights … but Liechtenstein was having problems with a tribe of particularly vicious mountain trolls. … That was it. …
He opened his eyes; they stung and watered at the sight of the blazing-white parchment. Slowly he wrote two lines about the trolls then read through what he had done so far. It did not seem very informative or detailed, yet he was sure Hermione’s notes on the confederation had gone on for pages and pages. …
He closed his eyes again, trying to see them, trying to remember. … The confederation had met for the first time in France, yes, he had written that already. …
Goblins had tried to attend and been ousted. … He had written that too. …
And nobody from Liechtenstein had wanted to come …
Think, he told himself, his face in his hands, while all around him quills scratched out never-ending answers and the sand trickled through the hourglass at the front. …
He was walking along the cool, dark corridor to the Department of Mysteries again, walking with a firm and purposeful tread, breaking occasionally into a run, determined to reach his destination at last. … The black door swung open for him as usual, and here he was in the circular room with its many doors. …
Straight across the stone floor and through the second door … patches of dancing light on the walls and floor and that odd mechanical clicking, but no time to explore, he must hurry. …
He jogged the last few feet to the third door, which swung open just like the others. …
Once again he was in the cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres. … His heart was beating very fast now. … He was going to get there this time. … When he reached number ninety-seven he turned left and hurried along the aisle between two rows. …
But there was a shape on the floor at the very end, a black shape moving upon the floor like a wounded animal. … Harry’s stomach contracted with fear … with excitement. …
A voice issued from his own mouth, a high, cold voice empty of any human kindness, “Take it for me. … Lift it down, now. … I cannot touch it … but you can. …”
The black shape upon the floor shifted a little. Harry saw a long-fingered white hand clutching a wand rise on the end of his own arm … heard the high, cold voice say, “Crucio!”
The man on the floor let out a scream of pain, attempted to stand but fell back, writhing. Harry was laughing. He raised his wand, the curse lifted, and the figure groaned and became motionless.
“Lord Voldemort is waiting. …”
Very slowly, his arms trembling, the man on the ground raised his shoulders a few inches and lifted his head. His face was bloodstained and gaunt, twisted in pain yet rigid with defiance. …
“You’ll have to kill me,” whispered Sirius.
“Undoubtedly I shall in the end,” said the cold voice. “But you will fetch it for me first, Black. … You think you have felt pain thus far? Think again. … We have hours ahead of us and nobody to hear you scream. …”
But somebody screamed as Voldemort lowered his wand again; somebody yelled and fell sideways off a hot desk onto the cold stone floor. Harry hit the ground