"Fizzing Whizbee," sang Umbridge, and the stone gargoyle jumped aside, the wall behind split open, and they ascended the moving stone staircase. They reached the polished door with the griffin knocker, but Umbridge did not bother to knock, she strode straight inside, still holding tight to Harry and Draco to me. The entire walk here Draco wouldn't look or talk to me.
"Draco..." I try to say, "I-"
"Don't." He says, his voice hollow. "Don't try." Something breaks inside me and I suddenly feel like crying. His eyes gleamed in fury and hurt.
The office was full of people. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, his expression serene, the tips of his long fingers together. Professor McGonagall stood rigidly beside him, her face extremely tense. Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, was rocking backward and forward on his toes beside the fire, apparently immensely pleased with the situation. Kingsley Shacklebolt and a tough-looking wizard I did not recognize with very short, wiry hair were positioned on either side of the door like guards, and the freckled, bespectacled form of Percy Weasley hovered excitedly beside the wall, a quill and a heavy scroll of parchment in his hands, apparently poised to take notes.
The portraits of old headmasters and mistresses were not shaming sleep tonight. All of them were watching what was happening below, alert and serious. As we entered, a few flitted into neighboring frames and whispered urgently into their neighbors' ears. Harry pulled himself free of Umbridge's grasp as the door swung shut behind them. Cornelius Fudge was glaring at him with a kind of vicious satisfaction upon his face.
"Well," he said. "Well, well, well . . ." Harry replied with the dirtiest look he could muster.
"He was heading back to Gryffindor Tower," said Umbridge. There was an indecent excitement in her voice, the same callous pleasure Harry had heard as she watched Professor Trelawney dissolving with misery in the entrance hall. "The Malfoy boy cornered him."
"Did he, did he?" said Fudge appreciatively. "I must remember to tell Lucius. Well, Potter . . . I expect you know why you are here?" Harry fully intended to respond with a defiant "yes": His mouth had opened and the word was half formed when he caught sight of Dumbledore's face. Dumbledore was not looking directly at Harry; his eyes were fixed upon a point just over his shoulder, but as Harry stared at him, he shook his head a fraction of an inch to each side. Harry changed direction mid-word.
"Yeh — no."
"I beg your pardon?" said Fudge.
"No," said Harry, firmly
. "You don't know why you are here?"
"No, I don't," said Harry.
"Well what about the girl?" I shrugged like I didn't know.
"So you have no idea," said Fudge in a voice positively sagging with sarcasm, "why Professor Umbridge has brought you to this office? You are not aware that you have broken any school rules?"
"School rules?" said Harry. "No."
"Or Ministry decrees?" amended Fudge angrily.
"Not that I'm aware of," said Harry blandly.
"So it's news to you, is it," said Fudge, his voice now thick with anger, "that an illegal student organization has been discovered within this school?"
"Yes, it is," said Harry, hoisting an unconvincing look of innocent surprise onto his face.
"I think, Minister," said Umbridge silkily from beside him, "we might make better progress if I fetch our informant."
"Yes, yes, do," said Fudge, nodding, and he glanced maliciously at Dumbledore as Umbridge left the room.
"There's nothing like a good witness, is there, Dumbledore?"
