Chapter 5
"Cornelius." Kingsley acknowledged him with a curt nod and Flitwick made a noise like a growl. Hem hem. Apparently, Umbridge did not enjoy being ignored, but no one in the room formally acknowledged her. Bill crossed his arms, but stayed at the window watching the scene unfold in silent concentration.
Rita stood at attention. She snatched her quill from the air mid-sentence and sucked on the tip, while unfurling a clean roll of parchment she extracted hurriedly from her massive green crocodile-skin bag. Harry pressed himself even tighter against the wall. After crumpling the used parchment into her bag, she shoved the thing into Harry's leg. He stifled a gasp and his eyes began to water; it must have contained about a dozen of her books The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore he thought. There was no other possible explanation for the sharp corners that had jabbed his shin from inside the monster. Rita didn't notice as he pushed her bag away with his foot. She was too busy setting her Quick-Quotes Quill onto the new parchment.
Mr. Weasley had jumped up, his back as stiff and straight as a board, his eyes narrowed. He moved closer to Slughorn, all sentiments from the brawl before forgotten. Sprout took his other side, and together, the three formed an intimidating wall. Flitwick stood next to Sprout, but his height in comparison with the others didn't give off the same aura. Dawlish was shunted to the back of the room, along with Proudfoot. Robards remained standing beside McGonagall.
But it wasn't Fudge that stepped first into the room. Dolores Umbridge waddled in, scowling profoundly at McGonagall and anyone else who made eye contact with her toad-like face. When she saw Robards she broke into a wide ugly grin that revealed pink lipstick stains on her two front teeth. McGonagall seemed to bristle like a cat as Umbridge walked past her to stand between Robards and Kingsley, surveying the room. With the exception of Rita, Fudge, and the Ministry officials, everyone in the room, including Harry, was glowering at Umbridge, although she seemed quite unfazed by this. Harry could almost feel the electric tension sparking the air in the room. Fudge still stood awkwardly in the doorway twirling his bowler cap between his hands. He seemed to debate whether or not to cross the threshold, and decided against it, instead leaning up against the door jam in an attempt to look casual. The effect was ruined, Harry thought, by Fudge's apparent nervousness. He frequently wiped his upper lip with a shaking hand while his eyes darted around the room, glancing away when he caught someone's eye.
"I wonder what you are doing here, Dolores." McGonagall's tone suggested that she rather wished Umbridge never show her toad-face at Hogwarts ever again.
"Oh, Minerva, I merely assisted Cornelius here." As if Fudge had never been to Hogwarts, thought Harry. Fudge, for one, looked quite taken aback by this. He was about to open his mouth to say something in his defense, but thought better of it and busied himself with picking some lint off of his hat.
"Well, he has been—what was the word? Ah yes, assisted. I'm sure Cornelius is eternally grateful for your efforts." Her sarcasm wiped the grin clean off Umbridge's face, and had the situation not been so serious, Harry would have laughed. "He will call on you when he is ready to leave." Fudge looked insulted at being discussed like an incapable ancient man, but he remained silent and returned to picking the nonexistent lint from his hat. The two women didn't break eye contact for what seemed like a century.
"Actually, Minerva," Umbridge pronounced McGonagall's name with enough venom to kill everyone in the room, "I thought I might stay and have a say in the proceedings. I'd like to discuss what will happen to Hogwarts as well as the countless bodies down—"
"Actually, Dolores," McGonagall's mimic of Umbridge was perfect, although Harry thought she could have killed everyone in the school with all of her suppressed rage and hate, "you will neither have a say, nor do you deserve one. Quite frankly no one appreciates your presence here and it would be a disservice to Hogwarts if I were to allow you to engage in the, ah, proceedings."
"If you were to—if you were—allow—allow me—" Umbridge could not recover from her shock quick enough to form a coherent retort as McGonagall drew breath and continued.
"Furthermore, the proceedings you speak of have already been settled and decisions have been made. If you had arrived a bit earlier, say, when we needed help from the Ministry in the fight against Voldemort and his supporters, then you might have heard our discussion. I presume that bad timing runs in the Ministry's blood." McGonagall's eyes blazed with a controlled anger. Harry had seen that look before in a pair of bright blue eyes now set in a portrait above McGonagall's head.
The only sounds in the room, other than Umbridge's labored breathing, came from the corner of the pensieve where Harry stood flattened against the wall. Rita was having a field day beside him. She couldn't get new sheaves of parchment out of her monster green crocodile bag fast enough as her quill zoomed across the page, scrawling line after line after line.
Umbridge made a move to speak, but McGonagall cut her off quickly. She seemed to be relishing this blatant form of retribution. "You may wait outside the office for Cornelius," Fudge eyed her contemptuously, "or return to the Ministry. And let me remind you that in order to apparate, you must be outside Hogwarts boundaries. Good day, Dolores."
Umbridge finally glanced down to avoid McGonagall's glare, only to make eye contact with Firenze, who was gazing at her with disgust. Her face contorted into a look of pure fear; apparently she had not noticed Firenze slumped on the floor next to Charlie Weasley.
"Oeia!" She shrieked like a banshee and quickly backed up into the human wall made of Slughorn, Sprout, and Mr. Weasley. She stumbled over to the door and nearly collided with Fudge. Her hands clawed the front of his robes and he dropped his hat in shock.
"Dolores! Get a hold of yourself," said Fudge looking quite perturbed.
"Cornelius," Umbridge rasped into his ear, "it's one of the half-breeds! I remember him! He took me—tortured me—"
Her whisper carried and McGonagall interrupted. "Dolores. Do not speak in that undermining way, as if you were higher than a centaur because of your magical status! Firenze did not carry you into the forest. As you should remember quite well, he was under the employ of Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts as divination teacher at the time." McGonagall's hands were shaking and the wand she was holding emitted red sparks. "Leave Hogwarts immediately. You have no business here."
Umbridge was still clinging to Fudge's robes, but her eyes were strangely misty. "I think I shall escort her back to the Ministry, Minerva." Fudge said in an oddly detached voice. His eyes were glazed, as well. Harry looked around the room and saw Flitwick stowing his wand back into his robes.
"Yes, Headmistress. I think we'd all better go." Gawain Robards walked out of the office followed closely by Proudfoot and Dawlish, the latter of whom, although imperiused, did not look much different than he normally did. Rita Skeeter was last to pack up her massive bag. Harry glimpsed inside, and sure enough, there were at least eight copies of her best-selling biography on Dumbledore.
The door snapped shut behind her blonde ringlets and the room was left in a deafening silence.