Dawn Rivera

The Muggle-Born Registration Commission

"Ah, Mafalda, Melanie!" says Umbridge, looking at Hermione and I. "Travers sent you, did he?"

"Y-yes," I squeak.

"Good, you'll do perfectly well." Umbridge speaks to the wizard in black and gold. "That's that problem solved, Minister, if Mafalda and Melanie can be spared for record-keeping we shall be able to start straight away." She consults her clipboard. "Ten people today and one of them the wife of a Ministry employee! Tut, tut...even here, in the heart of the Ministry!" She steps into the lift beside Hermione and I, as do the two wizards who were listening to Umbridge's conversation with the Minister. "We'll go straight down, Mafalda and Melanie, you'll find everything you need in the courtroom. Good morning, Albert, Arden, aren't you getting out?"

"Yes, of course," says Harry in Runcorn's deep voice.

Harry and Danny step out of the lift. The golden grilles clang shut behind them. Hermione and sink anxiously, a tall wizard on either side of us, Umbridge's velvet hair-bow level with our shoulders.

*

This room is small, though the ceiling is quite high; it gives the claustrophobic sense of being stuck at the bottom of a deep well.

There are Dementors in here, casting their freezing aura over the place; they stand like faceless sentinels in the corners furthest from the high, raised platform. Here, behind a balustrade, sits Umbridge, with Yaxley on one side of her, and Hermione and I, quite as white-faced as Mrs Cattermole, on the other. At the foot of the platform a bright, long-haired cat prowls up and down, up and down, and I realise it is there to protect the prosecutors from the despair that emanates from the Dementors: that is for the accused to feel, not the accusers.

"Sit down," says Umbridge in her soft, silky voice.

Mrs Cattermole stumbles into the single seat in the middle of the floor beneath the raised platform. The moment she has sat down, chains clink out of the arms of the chair and bind her there.

"You are Mary Elizabeth Cattermole?" asks Umbridge.

Mrs Cattermole gives a single, shaky nod.

"Married to Reginold Cattermole of the Magical Maintenance Department?"

Mrs Cattermole bursts into tears.

"I don't know where he is, he was supposed to meet me here!"

Umbridge ignores her.

"Mother to Maisie, Ellie and Alfred Cattermole?"

Mrs Cattermole sobs harder than ever.

"They're frightened, they think I might not come home - "

"Spare us," spits Yaxley. "The brats of Mudbloods do not stir our sympathies."

It is warm and comfortable here. The Patronus, I am sure, is Umbridge's, and it glows brightly because she is do happy here, in her element, upholding the twisted laws she helped to write. Umbridge raises her voice to address Mrs Cattermole.

"We're behind you," Danny whispers into my ear.

Hermione and I jump so violently we nearly overturn the bottles of ink with which we are supposed to be recording the interview, but both Umbridge and Yaxley are concentrating upon Mrs Cattermole, and this goes unnoticed.

"A wand was taken from you upon your arrival at the Ministry today, Mrs Cattermole," Umbridge is saying. "Eight and three-quarter inches, cherry, unicorn hair core. Do you recognise that description?"

Mrs Cattermole nods, mopping her eyes on her sleeve.

"Could you please tell us from which witch or wizard you took that wand?"