"Those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly." For Iris Potter, these words defined her whole life. Born with a natural talent for Legilim...
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They were at the stone gargoyle within minutes. Iris could only wonder how many of the others had been caught. She thought dreadfully of Ron— Mrs Weasley would kill him— and of how Hermione would feel if she was expelled before she could take her O.W.L.s.
"Fizzing Whizbee," sang Umbridge, and the stone gargoyle jumped aside, the wall behind split open, and they ascended the moving stone staircase. They reached the polished door with the griffin knocker, but Umbridge did not bother to knock, she strode straight inside, still holding tight to Iris and Harry.
The office 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 backwards and forward on his toes beside the fire, apparently immensely pleased with the situation. Kingsley Shacklebolt and a tough-looking wizard Iris did not recognize with very short, wiry hair were positioned on either side of the door like guards, and the freckled, bespectacled form of Percy Weasley hovered excitedly beside the wall, a quill and a heavy scroll of parchment in his hands, apparently poised to take notes. Worst of all, sitting front and centre was Cho's curly-haired friend Marietta, who was hiding her face in her hands, and Iris knew immediately it had been her who ratted them out.
The portraits of old headmasters and mistresses were not shamming sleep tonight. All of them were watching what was happening below, alert and serious. As the twins entered, a few flitted into neighbouring frames and whispered urgently into their neighbours' ears.
Beside Iris, Harry pulled himself free of Umbridge's grasp as the door swung shut behind them. Cornelius Fudge was glaring at the Potters with a kind of vicious satisfaction upon his face. Iris couldn't find it in herself to care about his gaze, though she found herself wilting in shame under the disappointed eyes of Professor Dumbledore.
They had messed up— big time.
"Well," Fudge said. "Well, well, well..."
Umbridge dropped her grip on Iris and suddenly brandished a familiar piece of parchment and to the brunette's horror, it was the list of names that had been pinned upon the Room of Requirement's wall.
"Dumbledore's Army!" The woman proclaimed triumphantly, "Proof of what I've been telling you right from the beginning, Cornelius!" Umbridge handed the D.A. Parchment to a stunned Fudge as she sneered at Dumbledore.
"The moment I saw the Potters' names on the list, I knew what we were dealing with," she said softly. Umbridge then hissed haughtily to Dumbledore, "All your fearmongering about You-Know-Who never fooled us for a minute. We saw your lies for what they were— a smokescreen for your bid to seize control of the Ministry!"
"Naturally," Dumbledore said solemnly, without hesitation.
Iris' eyes widened as she realised what Dumbledore was doing.
