Harry Potter 05 - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

big. Big and wearing cloaks.’
    Harry felt a horrible sinking in the pit of his stomach. Whatever Mrs Figg might say, it sounded to him as though the most she had ever seen was a picture of a Dementor, and a picture could never convey the truth of what these beings were like: the eerie way they moved, hovering inches over the ground; or the rotting smell of them; or that terrible rattling noise they made as they sucked on the surrounding air …
    In the second row, a dumpy wizard with a large black moustache leaned close to whisper in the ear of his neighbour, a frizzy-haired witch. She smirked and nodded.
    ‘Big and wearing cloaks,’ repeated Madam Bones coolly, while Fudge snorted derisively. ‘I see. Anything else?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Mrs Figg. ‘I felt them. Everything went cold, and this was a very warm summer’s night, mark you. And I felt … as though all happiness had gone from the world … and I remembered … dreadful things …’
    Her voice shook and died.
    Madam Bones’s eyes widened slightly. Harry could see red marks under her eyebrow where the monocle had dug into it.
    ‘What did the Dementors do?’ she asked, and Harry felt a rush of hope.
    ‘They went for the boys,’ said Mrs Figg, her voice stronger and more confident now, the pink flush ebbing away from her face. ‘One of them had fallen. The other was backing away, trying to repel the Dementor. That was Harry. He tried twice and produced only silver vapour. On the third attempt, he produced a Patronus, which charged down the first Dementor and then, with his encouragement, chased the second one away from his cousin. And that … that is what happened,’ Mrs Figg finished, somewhat lamely.
    Madam Bones looked down at Mrs Figg in silence. Fudge was not looking at her at all, but fidgeting with his papers. Finally, he raised his eyes and said, rather aggressively, ‘That’s what you saw, is it?’
    ‘That is what happened,’ Mrs Figg repeated.
    ‘Very well,’ said Fudge. ‘You may go.’
    Mrs Figg cast a frightened look from Fudge to Dumbledore, then got up and shuffled off towards the door. Harry heard it thud shut behind her.
    ‘Not a very convincing witness,’ said Fudge loftily.
    ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Madam Bones, in her booming voice. ‘She certainly described the effects of a Dementor attack very accurately. And I can’t imagine why she would say they were there if they weren’t.’
    ‘But Dementors wandering into a Muggle suburb and just happening to come across a wizard?’ snorted Fudge. ‘The odds on that must be very, very long. Even Bagman wouldn’t have bet –’
    ‘Oh, I don’t think any of us believe the Dementors were there by coincidence,’ said Dumbledore lightly.
    The witch sitting to the right of Fudge, with her face in shadow, moved slightly but everyone else was quite still and silent.
    ‘And what is that supposed to mean?’ Fudge asked icily.
    ‘It means that I think they were ordered there,’ said Dumbledore.
    ‘I think we might have a record of it if someone had ordered a pair of Dementors to go strolling through Little Whinging!’ barked Fudge.
    ‘Not if the Dementors are taking orders from someone other than the Ministry of Magic these days,’ said Dumbledore calmly. ‘I have already given you my views on this matter, Cornelius.’
    ‘Yes, you have,’ said Fudge forcefully, ‘and I have no reason to believe that your views are anything other than bilge, Dumbledore. The Dementors remain in place in Azkaban and are doing everything we ask them to.’
    ‘Then,’ said Dumbledore, quietly but clearly, ‘we must ask ourselves why somebody within the Ministry ordered a pair of Dementors into that alleyway on the second of August.’
    In the complete silence that greeted these words, the witch to the right of Fudge leaned forwards so that Harry saw her for the first time.
    He thought she looked just like a large, pale toad. She was rather squat with a broad, flabby face, as little neck as Uncle Vernon and a very wide, slack mouth. Her eyes were large, round and slightly bulging. Even the little black velvet bow perched on top of her short curly hair put him in mind of a large fly she was about to catch on a long sticky tongue.
    ‘The Chair recognises Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister,’ said Fudge.
    The witch spoke in a fluttery, girlish, high-pitched voice that took Harry aback; he had been expecting a croak.
    ‘I’m sure I must have