Chapter 111: A Close Shave
Pressed tightly together under the silken fabric of the Invisibility Cloak, the world narrowed to the scent of old wool, nervous breath, and the overwhelming proximity of another person. Elian had never been under the cloak before. It was a strange sensation—like looking out from behind a one-way mirror made of mist. He could see Umbridge's squat, toad-like figure in vivid, dreadful detail as she barged past Hagrid.
Hagrid's immense frame blocked most of the doorway. "Can I help you?" he rumbled, his voice tight.
Umbridge took several dainty steps back to see his face, her smile sugary and sharp. "I am Dolores Umbridge," she announced, as if presenting a royal decree. Without waiting for an invitation, she bustled into the room, her beady eyes darting over every surface—the oversized furniture, the cluttered shelves, the empty space by the fire where four teenagers were desperately trying not to breathe.
Fang, ever hopeful for affection, lumbered towards her. "Control your beast!" she shrilled, flinching away.
"He's friendly," Hagrid said, a defensive edge in his tone. "Aren't you the one from the Ministry? Fudge's… assistant?"
"I am the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, the Hogwarts High Inquisitor, and the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor," she recited, preening. Her gaze lingered on Hagrid's travelling cloak thrown over a chair. "You have been absent for some time, gamekeeper. A long… holiday, I am told."
"Needed a break," Hagrid grunted, picking up the raw meat and pressing it to his bruised face again, a move that seemed both painful and deliberately off-putting.
"I heard voices upon my approach," Umbridge said sweetly, her head tilting like a curious, poisonous bird. "Were you conversing with someone?"
"Just Fang here," Hagrid said, gesturing vaguely at the drooling boarhound. "Good listener, he is." The lie was painfully transparent; Hagrid's ears were turning red.
"I see," Umbridge said, not believing a word. She paced slowly, her eyes on the floor. "I observed several sets of footprints leading to your door. Quite fresh."
"Lots of folk come by," Hagrid said, his voice growing louder with strain. "Not many stay when I'm out, though!"
Elian felt Hermione tense beside him. Under the cloak, they were packed like sardines. Harry was rigid on his other side, Ron was sweating profusely, his eyes wide with panic.
Umbridge's interrogation continued, a relentless drip of poisoned honey. She asked about his "holiday," probing for details of his trip with Madame Maxime. Hagrid stonewalled, his answers growing more gruff and evasive.
"And your injuries?" she pressed, her smile never wavering. "A rather… active vacation, it seems."
"Do I need to report every scraped knee to you, Professor?" Hagrid finally snapped, taking a step forward. His anger was a physical force, his massive chest swelling. The raw meat in his hand dripped ominously.
Umbridge, faced with this sudden, towering fury, instinctively took two quick steps backward.
Right towards the corner where they were hiding.
Hermione, directly in her path, let out a tiny, muffled gasp of panic.
Elian acted without thought. His left hand shot out, clamping gently but firmly over Hermione's mouth. His right arm encircled her waist, pulling her back tight against him to both steady her and shrink their collective footprint. She was rigid with shock, then melted into a flush of warmth that had nothing to do with fear. He could feel her heart hammering against his arm, her breath hot against his palm.
The space under the cloak was now critically cramped. Elian was pressed against the cold stone wall, Hermione was a line of tense, soft heat against his front, with Harry and Ron crushed on either side. He could smell the apple-scent of her shampoo.
To reassure her, he moved the hand on her waist, tracing a single, clear word with his fingertip against the wool of her sweater: Q-U-I-E-T.
The effect was electric. Hermione jolted as if struck by a low-voltage curse, a full-body shiver that Elian felt distinctly. Her face, he knew even without seeing it, would be scarlet. She became utterly, completely still, save for the frantic pulse he could feel beneath his hand on her wrist.
Harry and Ron, blind to the silent drama beside them, were frozen in their own terror, staring with bulging eyes at Umbridge's hideous bows, now only three feet away. Ron looked like he might vomit from sheer anxiety.
Umbridge, recovering her composure, smoothed her horrid pink cardigan. "There is no need for hostility, gamekeeper. The Ministry merely seeks to ensure the safety and propriety of all Hogwarts affairs. Your… lack of cooperation is noted."
She gave the room one final, sweeping look of disgust, her eyes passing over the seemingly empty corner without a flicker of recognition. "Good evening."
With a last simpering smile, she turned and waddled out, closing the door firmly behind her.
They waited in the stifling, shared silence under the cloak for a full minute, listening to her footsteps fade on the gravel path. Hagrid stood like a granite statue, listening intently.
Finally, he let out a gusty sigh that shook the rafters. "She's gone."
Harry threw off the cloak, gasping for air. Ron stumbled back, wiping his brow. "I thought we were done for!"
Hermione practically sprang away from Elian, putting a good two feet between them in an instant. She couldn't meet his eyes, her face a brilliant shade of crimson as she busied herself straightening her robes with trembling hands.
Elian emerged more slowly, the strange, intimate warmth of the cloak dissipating into the chillier air of the hut. He caught Hermione's flustered glance for a second before she looked away, and a faint, entirely inappropriate smile touched his lips. It vanished as he looked at Hagrid.
The half-giant's face was grim. "She's sniffin' around, she is. This ain't over. An' now she knows I'm back." He looked at the four of them, his expression softening with worry. "Yeh better get back ter the castle. Quick and quiet. An' Elian… I'll get word ter Dumbledore. 'Bout yer… idea."
The message was clear. The walls were closing in. Umbridge was on the hunt, and their world was getting smaller by the day.
(End of Chapter)
(End of Chapter)
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