Fudge goggled worse than ever; his mouth was open and his round face grew pinker under his rumpled grey hair.

'I — you — '

Dumbledore turned his back on him.

'Take this Portkey, Harry.'

He held out the golden head of the statue and Harry placed his hand on it, past caring what he did next or where he went.

'I shall see you in half an hour,' said Dumbledore quietly. 'One . . . two . . . three . . .'

Harry felt the familiar sensation of a hook being jerked behind his navel. The polished wooden floor was gone from beneath his feet; the Atrium, Fudge and Dumbledore had all disappeared and he was flying forwards in a whirlwind of colour and sound . . .