─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
There was a wait of several minutes, in which nobody looked at each other, then Harry heard the door open behind him. Umbridge moved past him into the room, gripping by the shoulder Cho's curly haired friend Marietta, who was hiding her face in her hands.
"Don't be scared, dear, don't be frightened," said Professor Umbridge softly, patting her on the back, "it's quite alright, now. You have done the right thing. The minister is very pleased with you. He'll be telling your mother what a good girl you've been. Marietta's mother, Minister," she added, looking up at Fudge, "is Madam Edgecombe from the Department of Magical Transportation. Floo Network office — she's been helping us police the Hogwarts fires, you know."
"Jolly good, jolly good!" said Fudge heartily. "Like mother, like daughter, eh? Well, come on, now, dear, look up, don't be shy, let's hear what you've got to — galloping gargoyles!"
Marietta raised her head, causing Fudge to leap backward in shock, nearly landing himself in the fire. He cursed and stamped on the hem of his cloak, which had started to smoke, and Marietta gave a wail and pulled the neck of her robes right up to her eyes, but not before the whole room had seen that her face was horribly disfigured by a series of close-set purple pustules that had spread across her nose and cheeks to form the word "SNEAK." Clara laughed at the sight but stopped immediately at McGonagall's cold stare.
"Never mind the spots now, dear," said Umbridge impatiently, "just take your robes away from your mouth and tell the Minister —" But Marietta gave another muffled wail and shook her head frantically. "Oh, very well, you silly girl, I'll tell him," snapped Umbridge. She hitched her sickly smile back onto her face and said, "Well, Minister, Miss Edgecombe here came to my office shortly after dinner this evening and told me she had something she wanted to tell me. She said that if I proceeded to a secret room on the seventh floor, sometimes known as the Room of Requirement, I would find out something to my advantage. I questioned her a little further and she admitted that there was to be some kind of meeting there. Unfortunately at that point this hex," she waved impatiently at Marietta's concealed face, "came into operation and upon catching sight of her face in my mirror the girl became too distressed to tell me any more."
"Well, now," said Fudge, fixing Marietta with what he evidently imagined was a kind and fatherly look. "It is very brave of you, my dear, coming to tell Professor Umbridge, you did exactly the right thing. Now, will you tell me what happened at this meeting? What was its purpose? Who was there?" But Marietta would not speak. She merely shook her head again, her eyes wide and fearful. She looked to Clara who tightened her eyes into a glare, causing Marietta to whimper once more.
"Haven't we got a counter jinx for this?" Fudge asked Umbridge impatiently, gesturing at Marietta's face. "So she can speak freely?"
"I have not yet managed to find one," Umbridge admitted grudgingly, and Clara felt a surge of appreciation for Hermione's jinxing ability. "But it doesn't matter if she won't speak, I can take up the story from here. You will remember, Minister, that I sent you a report back in October that Potter had met a number of fellow students in the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade —"
"And what is your evidence for that?" cut in Professor McGonagall. "I have testimony from Willy Widdershins, Minerva, who happened to be in the bar at the time. He was heavily bandaged, it is true, but his hearing was quite unimpaired," said Umbridge smugly. "He heard every word Potter said and hastened straight to the school to report to me —"
"Oh, so that's why he wasn't prosecuted for setting up all those regurgitating toilets!" said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. "What an interesting insight into our justice system!"
"Blatant corruption!" roared the portrait of the corpulent, red nosed wizard on the wall behind Dumbledore's desk. "The Ministry did not cut deals with petty criminals in my day, no sir, they did not!"
"Thank you, Fortescue, that will do," said Dumbledore softly, speaking slowly and with such authority that even Clara was commanded to stop her glares.
"The purpose of Potter's meeting with these students," continued Professor Umbridge, "was to persuade them to join an illegal society, whose aim was to learn spells and curses the Ministry has decided are inappropriate for school-age —"
"I think you'll find you're wrong there, Dolores," said Dumbledore quietly, peering at her over the half-moon spectacles perched halfway down his crooked nose. Harry stared at him, as if he was searching for an answer in the man's cloudy eyes. Clara could not see how Dumbledore was going to talk them out of this one; if Willy Widdershins had indeed heard every word he said in the Hog's Head there was simply no escaping it.
"Oho!" said Fudge, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet again. "Yes, do let's hear the latest cock-and-bull story designed to pull Potter out of trouble! Go on, then, Dumbledore, go on — Willy Widdershins was lying, was he? Or was it Potter's identical twin in the Hog's Head that day? Or is there the usual simple explanation involving a reversal of time, a dead man coming back to life, and a couple of invisible dementors?"
Percy Weasley let out a hearty laugh. "Oh, very good, Minister, very good!"
"Cornelius, I do not deny — and nor, I am sure, does Harry —that he was in the Hog's Head that day, nor that he was trying to recruit students to a Defense Against the Dark Arts group." Dumbledore was smiling kindly, "I am merely pointing out that Dolores is quite wrong to suggest that such a group was, at that time, illegal. If you remember, the Ministry decree banning all student societies was not put into effect until two days after Harry's Hogsmeade meeting, so he was not breaking any rules in the Hog's Head at all."
Percy looked as though he had been struck in the face by something very heavy. Fudge remained motionless in mid-bounce, his mouth hanging open. Umbridge recovered first. "That's all very fine, Headmaster," she said, smiling sweetly. "But we are now nearly six months on from the introduction of EducationalDecree Number Twenty-four. If the first meeting was not illegal, all those that have happened since most certainly are."
"Well," said Dumbledore, surveying her with polite interest over the top of his interlocked fingers, "they certainly would be, if they had continued after the decree came into effect. Do you have any evidence that these meetings continued?" As Dumbledore spoke, Clara heard a rustle behind her and rather thought Kingsley whispered something. She could have sworn too that she felt something brush against her leg, a gentle something like a draft or bird wings, but looking down she saw nothing there.
"Evidence?" repeated Umbridge with that horrible wide toad-like smile. "Have you not been listening, Dumbledore? Why do you think Miss Edgecombe is here?"
"Oh, can she tell us about six months' worth of meetings?" said Dumbledore, raising his eyebrows. "I was under the impression that she was merely reporting a meeting tonight."
"Miss Edgecombe," said Umbridge at once, "tell us how long these meetings have been going on, dear. You can simply nod or shake your head, I'm sure that won't make the spots worse. Have they been happening regularly over the last six months?"
Everyone in the room was gazing at the top of Marietta's face. Only her eyes were visible between the pulled up robes and her curly fringe. Perhaps it was a trick of the firelight, but her eyes looked oddly blank. And then — to Clara's utter amazement — Marietta shook her head. Umbridge looked quickly at Fudge and then back at Marietta. "I don't think you understood the question, did you, dear? I'm asking whether you've been going to these meetings for the past six months? You have, haven't you?"
Again, Marietta shook her head. "What do you mean by shaking your head, dear?" said Umbridge in a testy voice.
"I would have thought her meaning was quite clear," said Professor McGonagall harshly. "There have been no secret meetings for the past six months. Is that correct, Miss Edgecombe?" Marietta nodded.
"But there was a meeting tonight!" said Umbridge furiously. "There was a meeting, Miss Edgecombe, you told me about it, in the Room of Requirement! And Potter was the leader, was he not, Potter organized it, Potter — why are you shaking your head, girl?"
"Well, usually when a person shakes their head," said McGonagall coldly, "they mean 'no.' So unless Miss Edgecombe is using a form of sign language as yet unknown to humans —"
Professor Umbridge seized Marietta, pulled her around to face her, and began shaking her very hard. A split second later Dumbledore was on his feet, his wand raised. Kingsley started forward and Umbridge leapt back from Marietta, waving her hands in the air as though they had been burned.
"I cannot allow you to manhandle my students, Dolores," said Dumbledore, and for the first time, he looked angry.
"You want to calm yourself, Madam Umbridge," said Kingsley.
"No," said Umbridge breathlessly, glancing up at the towering figure of Kingsley. "I mean, yes — you're right, Shacklebolt — I — I forgot myself."
Marietta was standing exactly where Umbridge had released her. She seemed neither perturbed by Umbridge's sudden attack, nor relieved by her release. She was still clutching her robe up to her oddly blank eyes, staring straight ahead of her. A sudden suspicion connected to Kingsley's whisper and the thing she had felt shoot past him sprang into Clara's mind.
"Dolores," said Fudge, with the air of trying to settle something once and for all, "the meeting tonight — the one we know definitely happened —"
"Yes," said Umbridge, pulling herself together, "yes . . . well, Miss Edgecombe tipped me off and I proceeded at once to the seventh floor, accompanied by certain trustworthy students, so as to catch those in the meeting red-handed. It appears that they were forewarned of my arrival, however, because when we reached the seventh floor they were running in every direction. It does not matter, however. I have all their names here, Miss Parkinson ran into the Room of Requirement for me to see if they had left anything behind. . . . We needed evidence and the room provided . . ." And to Clara's horror, she withdrew from her pocket the list of names that had been pinned upon the Room of Requirement's wall and handed it to Fudge. "The moment I saw Potter's name on the list, I knew what we were dealing with," she said softly.
"Excellent," said Fudge, a smile spreading across his face. "Excellent, Dolores. And . . . by thunder . . . See what they've named themselves?" said Fudge quietly. "Dumbledore's Army."
Dumbledore reached out and took the piece of parchment from Fudge. He gazed at the heading scribbled by Hermione months before and for a moment seemed unable to speak. Then he looked up, smiling. "Well, the game is up," he said simply. "Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelius — or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?"
Clara saw McGonagall and Kingsley look at each other. There was fear in both faces. Clara looked to Harry who shook his head, his face covered in worry. She did not understand what was going on, and neither, apparently, did Fudge. "Statement?" said Fudge slowly. "What — I don't — ?"
"Dumbledore's Army, Cornelius," said Dumbledore, still smiling as he waved the list of names before Fudge's face. "Not Potter's Army. Not Dupont's Army, nor Weasley's Army-" Percy winced at the mention of his family, "Dumbledore's Army."
"But — but —" Understanding blazed suddenly in Fudge's face. He took a horrified step backward, yelped, and jumped out of the fire again.
"You?" he whispered, stamping again on his smoldering cloak.
"That's right," said Dumbledore pleasantly.
"You organized this?"
"I did," said Dumbledore.
"You recruited these students for — for your army?"
"Tonight was supposed to be the first meeting," said Dumbledore, nodding. "Merely to see whether they would be interested in joining me. I see now that it was a mistake to invite Miss Edgecombe, of course." Marietta nodded. Fudge looked from her to Dumbledore, his chest swelling.
"Then you have been plotting against me!" he yelled.
"That is correct."
Suddenly, Harry had stepped forward, fury releasing itself in his words. "NO! No- Professor Dumbledore!"
"Be quiet, Harry, or I am afraid you and Miss Dupont will have to leave my office," said Dumbledore calmly. Harry lowered his head and stepped back in line with Clara. She shook the sleeve of his shirt, and he looked at her sadly. Something was wrong. What was happening?
"Yes, shut up, Potter!" barked Fudge, who was still ogling Dumbledore with a kind of horrified delight. "Well, well, well — I came here tonight expecting to expel Potter and instead —"
"Instead you get to arrest me," said Dumbledore, smiling. Clara gasped, realization hitting her like a train. Harry clenched his fist, obviously upset over the events. "It's like losing a Knut and finding a Galleon, isn't it?"
"Weasley!" cried Fudge, now positively quivering with delight, "Weasley, have you written it all down, everything he's said, his confession, have you got it?"
"Yes, sir, I think so, sir!" said Percy eagerly, whose nose was splattered with ink from the speed of his note-taking. "The bit about how he's been trying to build up an army against the Ministry, how he's been working to destabilize me?"
"Yes, sir, I've got it, yes!" said Percy, scanning his notes joyfully.
"Very well, then," said Fudge, now radiant with glee. "Duplicate your notes, Weasley, and send a copy to the Daily Prophet at once. If we send a fast owl we should make the morning edition!" Percy dashed from the room, slamming the door behind him, and Fudge turned back to Dumbledore. "You will now be escorted back to the Ministry, where you will be formally charged and then sent to Azkaban to await trial!"
"Ah," said Dumbledore gently, "yes. Yes, I thought we might hit that little snag."
"Snag?" said Fudge, his voice still vibrating with joy.
"I see no snag, Dumbledore!"
"Well," said Dumbledore apologetically, "I'm afraid I do."
"Oh really?"
"Well — it's just that you seem to be laboring under the delusion that I am going to — what is the phrase? 'Come quietly' I am afraid I am not going to come quietly at all, Cornelius. I have absolutely no intention of being sent to Azkaban. I could break out, of course —but what a waste of time, and frankly, I can think of a whole host of things I would rather be doing."
Umbridge's face was growing steadily redder, she looked as though she was being filled with boiling water. Fudge stared at Dumbledore with a very silly expression on his face, as though he had just been stunned by a sudden blow and could not quite believe it had happened. He made a small choking noise and then looked around at Kingsley and the man with short gray hair, who alone of everyone in the room had remained entirely silent so far. The latter gave Fudge a reassuring nod and moved forward a little, away from the wall. Harry saw his hand drift, almost casually, toward his pocket.
"Don't be silly, Dawlish," said Dumbledore kindly. "I'm sure you are an excellent Auror, I seem to remember that you achieved 'Outstanding' in all your N.E.W.T.s, but if you attempt to — er — 'bring me in' by force, I will have to hurt you." The man called Dawlish blinked, looking rather foolish. He looked toward Fudge again, but this time seemed to be hoping for a clue as to what to do next.
"So," sneered Fudge, recovering himself, "you intend to take on Dawlish, Shacklebolt, Dolores, and myself single-handed, do you, Dumbledore?"
"Merlin's beard, no," said Dumbledore, smiling. "Not unless you are foolish enough to force me to."
"He will not be single-handed!" said Professor McGonagall loudly, plunging her hand inside her robes.
"Oh yes he will, Minerva!" said Dumbledore sharply. "Hogwarts needs you!"
McGonagall's hand exited her robes, empty-handed, and she looked sadly at Dumbledore. He nodded at her slowly.
"Enough of this rubbish!" said Fudge, pulling out his own wand. "Dawlish! Shacklebolt! Take him!" A streak of silver light flashed around the room. There was a bang like a gunshot, and the floor trembled. A hand grabbed the back of Clara's hair and forced her down on the floor as a second silver flash went off — several of the portraits yelled, Fawkes screeched, and a cloud of dust filled the air. Coughing in the dust, Clara saw a dark figure fall to the ground with a crash in front of her. There was a shriek and a thud and somebody cried, "No!" Then the sound of breaking glass, frantically scuffling footsteps, a groan — and silence. Clara struggled around to see who was half-strangling her and saw Professor McGonagall crouched beside her. She had forced Marietta, Harry, and her out of harm's way. Dust was still floating gently down through the air onto them. Panting slightly, Clara saw a very tall figure moving toward them.
"Are you all right?" said Dumbledore.
"Yes!" said Professor McGonagall, getting up and dragging the students with her. The dust was clearing. The wreckage of the office loomed into view: Dumbledore's desk had been overturned, all of the spindly tables had been knocked to the floor, their silver instruments in pieces. Fudge, Umbridge, Kingsley, and Dawlish lay motionless on the floor. Fawkes the phoenix soared in wide circles above them, singing softly.
"Unfortunately, I had to hex Kingsley too, or it would have looked very suspicious," said Dumbledore in a low voice. "He was remarkably quick on the uptake, modifying Miss Edgecombe's memory like that while everyone was looking the other way — thank him for me, won't you, Minerva."
"Now, they will all awake very soon and it will be best if they do not know that we had time to communicate — you must act as though no time has passed, as though they were merely knocked to the ground, they will not remember —"
"Where will you go, Dumbledore?" whispered Professor McGonagall. "Grimmauld Place?"
"Oh no," said Dumbledore with a grim smile. "I am not leaving to go into hiding. Fudge will soon wish he'd never dislodged me from Hogwarts, I promise you. . . ."
"Professor Dumbledore . . ." Harry began. But Dumbledore cut him off before he could say another word.
"Listen to me, Harry," he said urgently, "you must study Occlumency as hard as you can, do you understand me? Do everything Professor Snape tells you and practice it particularly every night before sleeping so that you can close your mind to bad dreams — you will understand why soon enough, but you must promise me —" The man called Dawlish was stirring. Dumbledore seized Harry's wrist. "Remember — close your mind— you will understand," whispered Dumbledore.
What the hell was Occlumency?
"Off you go! Straight to your dormitories, and not a word of this to anyone." Professor McGonagall said, rushing them out of the office.
Clara and Harry stood in silence as Marietta weeped. Clara glared before pulling out her wand and pointing it at the Ravenclaw girl.
"Silencio!" she shouted. The crying stopped, and Marietta's eyes widened as Clara stalked towards her. "Listen here, you traitor, you're going to go back to your common room and stay quiet. If I find out you've told anyone something about anything- the club, the meetings, what just happened in the office- I will find you and hex you so hard you'll wish you'd never been born, got it?"
Marietta nodded and stood still as Clara raised her wand once more. "Sonorus!" The girl ran off, her cries echoing in the large hallway.
"You shouldn't have done that." Harry said. He was sitting with his back against the wall and was playing with some sort of pebble.
"Why not? She deserved it."
"Because, we're supposed to be the good guys. We don't do mean things to people."
"But that's no fun."
"You're messed up. You know that?" He brought himself to his feet and tossed the stone back into the hallway.
"Aren't we all?"
Harry smiled slightly and the pair began to walk down the hall. Clara was silent for a while. What could she even say, it wasn't like she understood half of what happened.
"What's Occlumency?"