Eyes downcast, she left the Great Hall after dinner, seemingly making her way to the Ravenclaw tower. A faint noise, like shuffling cloth curtains, caught her attention. She recognized it immediately.
"Professor Umbridge?"
Like something out of a nightmare, a beady-eyed, toad-faced woman emerged from the shadows along each side of the corridor. "Marietta Edgecombe, a pleasure to see you. I trust I find you well this evening?" That voice, like rotting honey, made her nearly sick with nerves, but she tried not to let it show.
"Good evening, Professor Umbridge. I am well, thank you."
"Are you sure, dear? You seem to be leaving dinner much earlier than usual."
"N-nothing of importance, Professor...just catching up on some homework." Marietta's eyes widened as she watched the elderly professor step closer, an evil gleam in her eye and a wicked grin spreading on her face with mock gentility.
"Very well, though I have noticed that something seems to...be troubling you, as of late, Miss Edgecombe. You have seemed rather distracted in my classes, a trait I am not accustomed to seeing in you."
Did she know already? If so, how? "I've just been rather busy lately, I guess. Fifth year is always busy, isn't it? Lots of coursework to do, on top of preparations for the O.W.L. exams."
"Ah, yes," Umbridge continued, her eyes never leaving Marietta's. "I remember how it was during my fifth year at Hogwarts. Between the coursework and the Quidditch games and all of the other things going on, I barely had time to remember myself. Now, with the Ministry decrees, there is at least one distraction gone. This must take a great load off your shoulders, yes?" Her gaze intensified, as if she could read her mind.
To hell with it; it would come out sooner or later, and she knew she couldn't bear up to normal interrogation tactics, let alone whatever Professor Umbridge had up her sleeve that had left scars on Harry Potter's hand. "Actually, Professor, there is something troubling me. If you have a moment, I would like to discuss something with you."
"Follow me, then," she said, motioning for Marietta to follow her. Neither of them said a word as they walked the twisted staircases and winding halls to her office. It was just as she'd left it, with the white lace doilies and the dusty vase filled with decaying flowers displayed prominently on her desk.
"Please, dear, have a seat." It came out more as a command than as a polite request, but she did it anyway, figuring it the wiser move. Professor Umbridge sat down on the other side of her desk, always keeping her eyes trained on her. Now that she was here, Marietta wasn't quite sure she wanted to do this. Hadn't the Granger girl mentioned something about a spell protecting the list of members? Would testing her integrity really be worth the consequences? She guessed it didn't matter, anymore, as there was no turning back at this point. She could only hope the girl had been bluffing. She was suddenly snapped out of her thoughts by that all-too-familiar "hem, hem" noise.
"So sorry to bother you in your solitary reverie, dearie, but you mentioned you had something to tell me?"
"Y-yes, Professor. According to Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four, all student organizations are banned, correct?"
"Yes, dear, that is correct."
It was now or never. "Well, it has come to my attention--that is, I have found evidence of a secret student group meeting somewhere in the castle."
That's when she started to feel the light, tingling burn in her face. Burns that felt, somehow, like reversed letters. In the reflection from Professor Umbridge's glasses, she saw the marks that were slowly spreading across her face, forming the word "Sneak."
Granger hadn't been bluffing, and she had no way to mask her betrayal.
Umbridge did not appear phased, though. She merely nodded. "Yes, yes, go on?"
"A group of roughly fourteen students, from Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff. They're studying some variation of Defense Against the Dark Arts that doesn't match the school curriculum. They're calling themselves Dumbledore's Army They meet in a special place called the Room of Requirement..." She stopped, the burning in her face rather strong, now. But was that the magic, or the shame?
"And? Carry on, girl! What else? Where is this Room of Requirement? Who is their leader?"
Marietta was sobbing, now. "They're on the seventh floor, Professor. Harry Potter is their leader."
There, she'd done it! Now, she simply covered her face in shame. What else could she have done? She was forever marked for what she'd done, and there was no telling what sort of retaliation she could expect from the others there.
Umbridge, on the other hand, seemed to put on her best sympathetic face. She came around from her desk and placed her hand on Marietta's shoulder. "Oh, you poor thing! Cursed by one of those little rapscallions in this little secret group they've got, eh? Well, I'll make sure things are set to rights, don't you fret. And now, to make them answer for their flagrant rule breaking; but first, I must contact the Minister of Magic. In the meantime, I will gather the offenders here, and we shall have a little chat with Headmaster Dumbledore."
She walked towards the door, and opened it to find Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson at the door. "Ah, just the people I needed to see."
"We're at your service, Professor." Draco said with a light bow.
"What can we do for you this evening, Professor Umbridge?" Pansy asked.
"It appears we have a group of troublemakers on the seventh floor, in a place called the 'Room of Requirement.' Find these troublemakers, and bring them to me at once!"