Magic? || Years 5-7

Sirius at the Ministry: Year 5

Their next -- and final -- exam was History of Magic. And Amisty was utterly dreading every second of it.

Amisty had reviewed her notes three times the morning before trudging down to the Great Hall to start the exam.

"Turn over your papers," Professor Marchbanks called from the front, turning over the hourglass. "You may begin..."

It was miserable, to say the least. She skipped quite a few and a couple of the answers she scribbled down made absolutely no sense but had an explanation that might suffice even if it was wrong. She was terrible at remembering dates, but names she was okay with, so she could get through those rather quickly.

She wrote as quickly as she could manage while keeping her handwriting legible when it came to the history of werewolves section. So what if her opinions were a tad biased, they'd understand when they saw her last name.

The history of St. Mungo's was a breeze.

The details of wizards in Egypt wasn't her strongest answer, but she knew enough through the Weasleys' stories about their vacation there that she could manage a decent answer.

She was about three-quarters of the way through when a loud thump and a cry of pain sounded from behind her.

Harry.

She whirled around, her eyes wide and heart thumping in her chest. He was lying on the ground, clutching his forehead and crying out.

Professor Tofty hurried forward, helping him to his feet and escorting him out the Hall. Amisty almost shifted to get out of her seat when Professor Marchbanks caught everyone's' attention once more.

"Please stay seated, boys and girls," She called sharply, pointing at the hourglass. "You only have fifteen minutes left."

Amisty was torn and it took her five minutes before the finality set in and she desperately started to scribble down nonsense to at least get half points for some of the questions.

Professor Tofty entered once more at seven minutes left. Harry wasn't with him.

The last grain of sand fell down and the exam was finished, the rolls of parchment flew up in a neat stack to Professor Marchbanks.

"You're free to go," She smiled.

Amisty, Hermione, and Ron all met together and headed immediately out of the Great Hall.

"There!" Ron whispered, pointing up the marble staircase. Harry was standing there, cheeks flushed and eyes wild. They ran up to meet him.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped. "What happened? Are you all right? Are you ill?"

"Where have you been?" Ron demanded.

"Come with me," Harry replied, ignoring their questions. "Come on, I've got to tell you something..."

He walked quickly down the first-floor corridor and then shot into an empty classroom, clicking the door shut behind them and locking it. He leaned against it as if taking the extra precaution to make sure absolutely no one else could get in.

"Voldemort's got Sirius," He declared rather breathlessly.

"What?"

Amisty was quite certain he'd lost his mind.

"How d'you -- ?" Ron began.

"Saw it. Just now. When I fell asleep in the exam," Harry replied shortly.

"But -- but where? How?" Hermione asked, having gone very pale.

"I dunno how. But I know exactly where," He replied vaguely. "There's a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass halls, 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..."