was nothing short of tensed, the five minutes stretching out to an eternity.

"Fizzing Whizbee," Umbridge sings most happily. The stone gargoyle started spinning upwards and Umbridge pushed Margaret and Harry onto the stairs, her stubby fingers still seizing their arms tightly. They reached the large oaken doors with the gryphon knocker but she did not bother to knock, striding straight inside with the two.

Instantly, Margaret changed her demeanour.

"Why have you brought us here? What's going on?" she asks, looking disbelieved at the happenings. She turned to face the office, which 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 back and forth on his toes beside the fire, apparently immensely pleased with the situation. Kingsley Shacklebolt and a tough-looking wizard called John Dawlish were positioned on either side of the door like guards, and the freckled, bespectacled form of Percy Weasley hovered excitedly on the left, a quill and a heavy scroll of parchment in his hands.

The portraits of old Headmasters and Headmistresses were not feigning sleep tonight. All of them were watching what was happening below, alert and serious. At the sight of Harry and Margaret, a few flitted into neighbouring frames and whispered urgently into their neighbours' ears.

"You know very well why you are both here, dear," says Umbridge sweetly, attempting to push her and Harry to the middle of the room but both of them pulled themselves free from her grasp.

"As a matter of fact," Margaret goes on challengingly, "no, we don't."

Cornelius Fudge was glaring at Harry with a kind of vicious satisfaction on his face. Harry replied with the dirtiest look he could muster before Fudge the looked to Margaret.

"And who might you be?" he asks.

"Margaret Xenakis," she responds simply.

"The Canadian transfer student. The two of them were heading back to Gryffindor Tower," Umbridge informs, an indecent excitement in her voice. "Malfoy and Parkinson cornered them."

"Ah, I've heard a lot about you, Miss Xenakis," says Fudge, nodding knowingly before looking from her to Harry again. "Well, Potter... I expect you know why you are here?"

Margaret looked at Dumbledore.

The Headmaster was not looking directly at Harry; his eyes were fixed upon a point just over his shoulder, but he shook his head a fraction of an inch to each side.

Harry changed direction mid-word. "Yeh- no."

"I beg your pardon?" asks Fudge.

"No," Harry answers firmly.

"You don't know why you are here?"

"No, we don't," Harry says.

Margaret shrugged, shaking her head when Fudge turned his head to her. He looked incredulously to Professor Umbridge.

Amidst the distraction, Dumbledore gave the carpet the tiniest of nods and the shadow of a wink when Harry and Margaret stole another quick glance at him.

"So you have no idea," Fudge begins in a voice sagging with sarcasm, "why Professor Umbridge has brought you both to this office? You are not aware that you have broken any school rules?"

"School rules?" Margaret asks, incredulous. "No!"

"Or Ministry decrees?" Fudge continues irritably.

"Not that we're aware of," Harry says blandly.

It was almost worth telling these lies to watch Fudge's blood pressure rising. "So it's news to you, is it," he begins, his voice now thick with anger, "that an illegal student organisation has been discovered within this school?"

"Yes, it is," Harry and Margaret reply in unison.

"I think, Minister," Umbridge says silkily, "we might make better progress if I fetch our informant."

"Yes, yes, do," Fudge nods. He glanced maliciously at Dumbledore as Umbridge left the room. "There's nothing like a good witness, is there, Dumbledore?"

"Nothing at all, Cornelius," says Dumbledore gravely, inclining his head. It did not take a genius to figure out that Fudge was hinting at when Dumbledore had produced a witness - Mrs Figg - in Winzegamot to save Harry from expulsion at the beginning of the year.

There was a wait of several minutes, in which Margaret looked to Dumbledore to find him staring right at her, his expression calm. She let down the shields around her mind partly, ignoring the very loud and boasting thoughts of Minister Fudge, trying to concentrate.

"Professor?"

Nothing for a moment. Then a gruff voice resonated in her head, momentarily deafening her.

"Stay calm."

Margaret was not going to meddle anyway. She looked at Fawkes on the side and gave the tiniest of nods, then raised a brow at Percy who was watching her with some confusion.

The door opened and Umbridge moved into the room, gripping by the shoulder Cho's curly-haired friend Marietta Edgecombe, who was hiding her face in her hands.

Margaret's lip curled at the sight of her. She just had to rat them out, didn't she? It was curious as to why she did so, but perhaps some things cannot be changed...

"Don't be scared, dear," says Umbridge sweetly, patting Marietta on the back, "It's quite all right, 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 adds, looking 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!" Fudge exclaims 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!"

As Marietta raised her head, Fudge leapt backwards in shock, nearly landing himself in the fire. He cursed and stamped on the hem of his cloak which had started to smoke.

Margaret tried but could not hold in her snort, her anger dissipating a little as she quickly slapped a hand on her mouth to keep herself from making any more noise out of humour. Next to her, Harry looked equally amused.

At Fudge's reaction, Marietta gave a wail and pulled the neck of her robes right up to her eyes, but not before the whole room had seen her face, which was horribly disfigured by a series of close-set purple pustules that had spread across her nose and cheeks to form the word "SNEAK."

Removing her hand from her mouth, Margaret discreetly mouthed 'Hermione' to Harry, and he looked mighty pleased with their friend's jinxing abilities.

"Never mind the spots now, dear," Umbridge tells her impatiently, "just take your robes away from your mouth and tell the Minister-"

But Marietta gave another muffled wail, shoulders shaking violently, and shook her head frantically.

"Oh, very well, you silly girl, I'll tell him," snaps the toad. Her sickly smile comes back onto her face and she goes on, "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. She admitted that there was to be some kind of meeting there. Unfortunately at that point this hex," she waves 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 anymore."

"Well, now," Fudge speaks, fixing Marietta with what he evidently imagined was a kind and fatherly look. "It is very brave of you, my dear, to come 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 all were there?"

But Marietta would not speak. She merely shook her head again, her eyes wide and fearful.

"Haven't we got a counter-jinx for this?" Fudge asks Umbridge fretfully, gesturing at Marietta's face.

"I have not yet managed to find one," Umbridge admits grudgingly.

Bless you, Hermione Granger.

"But it doesn't matter if she won't speak, I can take up the story from here," Umbridge continues, "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?" Professor McGonagall cuts.

"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," Umbridge tells her smugly. "He heard every word Potter said and made haste straight to the school to report to me-"

"Oh, so that's why he wasn't prosecuted for setting up all those regurgitating toilets!" Professor McGonagall says smartly, raising her eyebrows. "What an interesting insight into our justice system!"

"The purpose of Potter's meeting with these students," Professor Umbridge ploughs on, "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 quite wrong there, Dolores," interrupts Dumbledore quietly, peering at her over the half-moon spectacles.

"Oho!" Fudge exclaims, bouncing up and down on his toes again. "Yes, 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 before immediately choking on it when Margaret's crimson glowing eyes looked him directly in the eye. He spluttered, glancing at her again to find her looking at Dumbledore, seemingly ordinary. He looked around to see no one else had noticed what he thought he had and found that they were instead glancing at him, Percy, with annoyed expressions.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, continued to smile.

"Cornelius, I do not deny - and nor, I am sure, does Harry - that he was in the Hog's Head pub that day, nor that he was trying to recruit students to a Defence Against the Dark Arts group. 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 time at all."

Percy now looked as though he had been struck in the face by something very heavy, momentarily forgetting what he thought he had seen. Fudge remained motionless in mid-bounce, his mouth hanging open. Umbridge recovered first.

"That's all very fine, Headmaster," she says, smiling sweetly. "But we are now nearly six months on from the introduction of Educational Decree Number Twenty-four. If the first meeting was not illegal, all those that have happened since most, certainly are."

"Well," Dumbledore begins, surveying her with polite interest, "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, Harry heard a rustle behind him and thought Kingsley had whispered something. He could have sworn too that he felt something brush against his side, a gentle something, like a draft or bird wings; but looking down he saw nothing there, and when he looked up, Margaret was smirking at the floor. Although something told Harry that it was not her doing.

"Evidence?" Umbridge asks 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?" Dumbledore questions back, raising his eyebrows. "I was under the impression that she was merely reporting a meeting tonight."

"Miss Edgecombe," commands Umbridge strictly, "tell us how long these meetings have been going on. You can simply nod or shake your head. Have they been happening regularly over the last six months?"

Margaret saw that Harry looked sick. She knew he believed that this was it; that they had hit a dead-end of solid evidence that not even Dumbledore would be able to shift aside. Shifting slightly and reaching out without looking at him, she grabbed his hand in hers to provide what little comfort she could. Harry seemed surprised, momentarily inclining his head towards her, but did not protest and slowly closed his hand around hers.

"Just nod or shake your head, dear," Umbridge coaxes. "Come on, I'm sure that won't make the spots worse..."'

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 Marietta shook her head.

Umbridge tensed, looked quickly at Fudge and then back at her.

"I don't think you understood the question, dear. I'm asking whether your friends, as you said, have been going to these meetings for the past six months."

Again, Marietta shook her head.

"What do you mean by shaking your head, dear?" Umbridge asks, her voice getting higher and higher.

"I would have thought her meaning was quite clear," says 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!" Umbridge shrieks. "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," begins McGonagall coolly, "they mean 'no.' So, unless Miss Edgecombe is using a form of sign language as yet unknown to humans-"

Suddenly, Umbridge grabbed Marietta by the shoulders, pulled her around to face her, and began shaking her violently. A split second later, Dumbledore was on his feet, his wand raised, and McGonagall and Kingsley sprang forward.

Umbridge leapt back from Marietta, yelping and waving her hands in the air as though they had been burned.

"I cannot allow you to manhandle my students, Dolores," Dumbledore says sharply, and for the first time ever, he looked angry.

"You might want to calm yourself, Madam Umbridge," says Kingsley in his deep, slow voice. "You don't want to get yourself in trouble now."

"No," Umbridge breathes, glancing up at the towering figure of Kingsley. "I mean, yes. 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 arose in his mind and Harry glanced up at Kingsley dubiously. Margaret squeezed his hand once and without looking at him, she shook her head discreetly, telling him not to draw attention to the Auror.

"Dolores," Fudge says, with finality in his tone, "the meeting tonight - the one we know definitely happened-"

"Yes," Umbridge breathes again, 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 it..."

To Harry's horror, she pulled out from her pocket the list of names that had been pinned upon the Room of Requirement's mirror-wall and handed it to Fudge.

He looked up at Dumbledore. "See what they've named themselves? Dumbledore's Army."

Dumbledore reached out and took the piece of parchment from Fudge. He gazed at the heading scribbled by Hermione six months ago and, for a moment, seemed unable to speak.

Despite the circumstances, Margaret thought it was nice that the Headmaster looked rather touched by the naming of their group in his honour.

Dumbledore looked up, smiling. "Well, the game is up. Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelius? Or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?"

McGonagall and Kingsley looked at each other, fear on both faces. Harry stole a glance at them then gazed at Margaret, who was now staring at the floor with a sort of painful intensity. No one seemed to understand what was going on, including Fudge.

"Statement...?" asks Fudge slowly.

"Dumbledore's Army, Cornelius," says the Headmaster, still smiling as he waved the list of names in front of Fudge's face. "Not Potter's."

"But- but-"

Understanding dawned on Fudge's face. He took a horrified step backwards, yelped, and jumped out of the fire again.

"You?" he whispers, stamping again on his smouldering cloak.

"That's right," Dumbledore says pleasantly.

"You organized this?!"

"I did."

"You recruited these students for- for your army?!"

"Tonight was supposed to be the first meeting," Dumbledore nods. "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 like a balloon.

"Then you have been plotting against me!" he bellows, pointing a stubby shaking finger at him.

"NO!" shouts Harry, trying to take a step forward but being held back by Margaret. "NO! IT WAS ME!

Kingsley flashed a look of warning at him, McGonagall widened her eyes threateningly; but it had suddenly dawned upon Harry what Dumbledore was about to do, and he could not let that happen.

"Very noble of you to try to shield me, Harry," says Dumbledore kindly. "But I'm afraid the truth's come out."

"No - Professor Dumbledore-!"

"Harry, no," whispers Margaret. "Stay calm," she repeats the words Dumbledore had said to her only moments ago. Harry looked horrified but Fudge interrupted before he could speak up again.

"Shut up, Potter!" he barks, still ogling Dumbledore with a kind of appalled delight. "Well, well, well - I came here tonight expecting to expel Potter and instead..."

"Instead you get to arrest me," says the Headmaster, smiling. "It's like losing a Knut and finding a Galleon, isn't it?"

"Weasley!" cries Fudge, now positively quivering with glee. "Have you written it all down, everything he's said, his confession, have you got it?!"

"Yes, sir, I think so, sir!" Percy tells him eagerly, nose 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 destabilise me?!"