Harry did not know where to begin, but it did not matter. At that moment, something large and silver came falling through the canopy over the dance floor. Graceful and gleaming, the lynx landed lightly in the middle of the astonished dancers. Heads turned, as those nearest it froze, absurdly, in mid-dance. Then the patronus's mouth opened wide and it spoke in the loud, deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.
'The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.'
