Harry's fist hadn't even made contact with the door when it swung open abruptly, giving him a start. A short woman with mousy brown hair and a nauseating, toad-like face stood before him. She donned the same fluffy pink cardigan that she'd been wearing at dinner but seemed to have placed a velvet bow on her head as soon as she returned to her office.
"Hello Mr. Potter," she said in a chilling, warm voice.
"Hi," said Harry tenaciously. She pulled the door open further and gestured him inside. The office looked unrecognizable from the way it had been furnished the past two years under the occupation of Professor Lupin and Mad-Eye Moody's imposter.
White lace decked every surface as well as flower vases and dimly lit candles. Ceramic plates covered the wall, each portraying a different mewling kitten wearing a bow tie, not unlike the one perched on top of Umbridge's curls.
"Sit," she commanded, motioning to the wooden stool placed in front of her desk. Harry did as he was told and felt his stomach twinge with nervousness. What would Umbridge possibly make him do?
She sat opposite of him and stretched her lips into a wide smile. Harry swallowed hard but kept his expression impassive as she rummaged in the drawer for a teacup and poured a fair amount of steaming liquid into it. "There you are, Dear," she said in a soft, sugary tone.
She placed the cup in front of Harry, but he knew better than to drink anything she gave him. He looked from the copper liquid to her round eyes gazing at him expectantly and said,
"This is a detention." Her smile broadened slightly. "So what is my punishment?" She continued to smile for a few seconds before saying,
"How virtuous it is of you to ask such a question." Harry stared blankly. "Of course, I would expect nothing less from you, Mr. Potter. Your good deeds are not uncommon knowledge, not even to us ministry officials." Her voice was now as sweet and innocent-sounding as the kittens' mewls on the wall behind him.
Harry was at a loss for words. However much anxiety he'd felt before arriving at Umbridge's office must've tripled as she blandished him with her deceptive affability. "You'd better sip your tea before it gets cold, Dear."
Harry picked up the teacup and felt hot steam encompass his face carrying with it the sweet scent of treacle tart and, oddly enough, a broomstick handle which he imagined stemmed from his biting guilt at missing Quidditch practice.
"I'm sorry," said Harry after a few tempting moments. "I'm just not thirsty." Umbridge clenched her jaw but held the same honeyed tone when she said,
"Very well" and gripped her wand in her right hand. "Imperio!"
Harry felt a mellow euphoria melt through his head and gently penetrate the rest of his body. He felt so light that he wondered if gravity would pull him back down to Earth if he leaped off of the stool and into the lavender-fragranced air.
"Drink the tea," said a distant, pleasant voice. Harry gazed around the room but didn't have to look very far to find the white teacup with pink flowers painted around its rim. It seemed to be calling his name. Just when he was about to extend a hand towards it, another voice sounded from the back of his head.
"Why?" it asked.
"Drink the tea," the pleasant voice repeated. Harry looked at the copper liquid, impulse flourishing until his own voice spoke again:
"There doesn't seem to be a reason to. I'm not very thirsty."
"It's the polite thing to do," said the distant voice tenderly. "It is being given to you as a reward."
