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the ministry of magic pt2

Harry crept closer, although the workers were so intent on what they were doing that he doubted they would notice a carpet-muffled footstep, and he slid a completed pamphlet from the pile beside a young witch. He examined it beneath the Invisibility Cloak. Its pink cover was emblazoned with a golden title:

Mudbloods

and the Dangers They Pose to

a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society

The marauders growled

Beneath the title was a picture of a red rose with a simpering face in the middle of its petals, being strangled by a green weed with fangs and a scowl.

"That's sick," James spat

There was no author's name upon the pamphlet, but again, the scars on the back of his right hand seemed to tingle as he examined it. Then the young witch beside him confirmed his suspicion as she said, still waving and twirling her wand, "Will the old hag be interrogating Mudbloods all day, does anyone know?"

"Careful," said the wizard beside her, glancing around nervously; one of his pages slipped and fell to the floor.

"What, has she got magic ears as well as an eye, now?"

"What?" Tonks asked, the magical eye idea reminding her of mad-eye. He had returned at the same time as everyone else but hadn't come for memories. Maybe they'd ask him later.

The witch glanced toward the shining mahogany door facing the space full of pamphlet-makers; Harry looked too, and the rage reared in him like a snake. Where there might have been a peephole on a Muggle front door, a large, round eye with a bright blue iris had been set into the wood – an eye that was shockingly familiar to anybody who had known Alastor Moody.

"Mad-Eye," breathed Tonks, looking upset, Remus placed a hand on her shoulder.

He strode straight over to the door to examine the eye. It was not moving. It gazed blindly upward, frozen.

The plaque beneath it read:

Dolores Umbridge

Senior Undersecretary to the Minister

Below that a slightly shinier new plaque read:

Head of the Muggle-Born

Registration Commission

Everyone frowned – typical Umbridge toad behaviour.

Harry looked back at the dozen pamphlet-makers. He withdrew from an inner pocket an odd object with little waving legs and a rubber-bulbed horn for a body. Crouching down beneath the Cloak, he placed the Decoy Detonator on the ground.

It scuttled away at once through the legs of the witches and wizards in front of him. A few moments later, during which Harry waited with his hand upon the doorknob, there came a loud bang and a great deal of acrid smoke billowed from a corner. The young witch in the front row shrieked: Pink pages flew everywhere as she and her fellows jumped up, looking around for the source of the commotion. Harry turned the doorknob, stepped into Umbridge's office, and closed the door behind him.

The room was exactly like Umbridge's office at Hogwarts: Lace draperies, doilies and dried flowers covered every surface. The walls bore the same ornamental plates, each featuring a highly coloured, beribboned kitten, gambolling and frisking with sickening cuteness. The desk was covered with a flouncy, flowered cloth.