‘And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too –’
‘JORDAN!’
‘Sorry, Professor.’
[…]
‘So – after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating –’
‘Jordan!’ growled Professor McGonagall.
‘I mean, after that open and revolting foul –’
‘Jordan, I’m warning you –’
‘All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I’m sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession.’
[…]
‘YOU CHEATING SCUM!’ Lee Jordan was howling into the megaphone, dancing out of Professor McGonagall’s reach. ‘YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B–’
Professor McGonagall didn’t even bother to tell him off. She was actually shaking her fist in Malfoy’s direction; her hat had fallen off, and she, too, was shouting furiously.

‘Potter! Weasley! What are you doing?’
It was Professor McGonagall, and her mouth was the thinnest of thin lines.
‘We were – we were –’ Ron stammered, ‘we were going to – to go and see –’
‘Hermione,’ said Harry. Ron and Professor McGonagall both looked at him.
‘We haven’t seen her for ages, Professor,’ Harry went on hurriedly, treading on Ron’s foot, ‘and we thought we’d sneak into the hospital wing, you know, and tell her the Mandrakes are nearly ready and, er, not to worry.’
Professor McGonagall was still staring at him, and for a moment, Harry thought she was going to explode, but when she spoke, it was in a strangely croaky voice.
‘Of course,’ she said, and Harry, amazed, saw a tear glistening in her beady eye. ‘Of course, I realise this has all been hardest on the friends of those who have been … I quite understand. Yes, Potter, of course you may visit Miss Granger. I will inform Professor Binns where you’ve gone. Tell Madam Pomfrey I have given my permission.’
Harry and Ron walked away, hardly daring to believe that they’d avoided detention. As they turned the corner, they distinctly heard Professor McGonagall blow her nose.
‘That’, said Ron fervently, ‘was the best story you’ve ever come up with.’

‘Professor Moody!’ said a shocked voice.
Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.
‘Hello, Professor McGonagall,’ said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.
‘What – what are you doing?’ said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following he bouncing ferret’s progress through the air.
‘Teaching,’ said Moody.
‘Teach- Moody, is that a student?’ shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.
‘Yep,’ said Moody.
‘No!’ cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.
‘Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!’ said Professor McGonagall weakly. ‘Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?’
‘He might’ve mentioned it, yeah,’ said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, ‘but I thought a good sharp shock –’

‘I’ve been sent to see you,’ said Harry stiffly.
‘Sent? What do you mean, sent?’
He held out the note from Professor Umbridge. Professor McGonagall took it from him, frowning, slit it open with a tap of her wand, stretched it out and began to read. Her eyes zoomed from side to side behind their square spectacles as she read what Umbridge had written, and with each line they became narrower.
‘Come in here, Potter.’
He followed her inside her study. The door closed automatically behind him.
‘Well?’ said Professor McGonagall, rounding on him. ‘Is it true?’
‘Is what true?’ Harry asked, rather more aggressively than he had intended. ‘Professor?’ he added, in an attempt to sound more polite.
‘Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?’
‘Yes,’ said Harry.
‘You called her a liar?’
‘Yes.’
You told her He Who Must Not Be Named is back?’
‘Yes.’
Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, frowning at Harry. Then she said, ‘Have a biscuit, Potter.’
‘Have – what?’
‘Have a biscuit,’ she repeated impatiently, indicating a tartar tin lying on top of the piles of papers on her desk. ‘And sit down.’

‘Hem, hem,’ said Professor Umbridge.
‘Yes?’ said Professor McGonagall, turning round, her eyebrows so close together they seemed to form one long, severe line.
‘I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec—’
‘Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom,’ said Professor McGonagall, turning her back firmly on Professor Umbridge. Many of the students exchanged looks of glee. ‘As I was saying: today, we shall be practising the altogether more difficult Vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell –’
‘Hem, hem.’
‘I wonder,’ said Professor McGonagall in cold fury, turning on Professor Umbridge, ‘how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking.’
[…]
‘Very well,’ she said, ‘you will receive the results of your inspection in ten days’ time.’
‘I can hardly wait,’ said Professor McGonagall, in a coldly indifferent voice, and she strode off towards the door. ‘Hurry up, you three,’ she added, sweeping Harry, Ron and Hermione before her.
Harry could not help giving her a faint smile and could have sworn he received one in return.

Professor Umbridge gave her most pronounced cough yet.
‘May I offer you a cough drop, Dolores?’ Professor McGonagall asked curtly, without looking at Professor Umbridge.
‘Oh, no, thank you very much,’ said Umbridge, with that simpering laugh Harry hated so much. ‘I just wondered whether I could make the teensiest interruption, Minerva?’
‘I daresay you’ll find you can,’ said Professor McGonagall through tightly gritted teeth.
‘I was wondering whether Mr Potter has quite the temperament for an Auror?’ said Professor Umbridge sweetly.
‘Were you?’ said Professor McGonagall haughtily. ‘Well, Potter,’ she continued, as though there had been no interruption, ‘if you are serious in this ambition, I would advise you to concentrate hard on bringing your Transfiguration and Potions up to scratch. I see Professor Flitwick has graded you between “Acceptable” and “Exceeds Expectations” for the last two years, so your Charmwork seems satisfactory. As for Defence Against the Dark Arts, your marks have been generally high, Professor Lupin in particular thought you – are you quite sure you wouldn’t like a cough drop, Dolores?’
‘Oh, no need, thank you, Minerva,’ simpered Professor Umbridge, who had just coughed her loudest yet. ‘I was just concerned that you might not have Harry’s most recent Defence Against the Dark Arts marks in front of you. I’m quite sure I slipped in a note.’
‘What, this thing?’said Professor McGonagall in a tone of revulsion, as she pulled a sheet of pink parchment from between the leaves of Harry’s folder. She glanced down it, her eyebrows slightly raised, then placed it back into the folder without comment.
‘Yes, as I was saying, Potter, Professor Lupin thought you showed a pronounced aptitude for the subject, and obviously for an Auror –’
‘Did you not understand my note, Minerva?’ asked Professor Umbridge in honeyed tones, quite forgetting to cough.
‘Of course I understood it,’ said Professor McGonagall, her teeth clenched so tightly the words came out a little muffled.
‘Well, then, I am confused… I’m afraid I don’t quite understand how you can give Mr Potter false hope that –’
‘False hope?’ repeated Professor McGonagall, still refusing to look round at Professor Umbridge. ‘He has achieved high marks in all his Defence Against the Dark Arts tests –’
‘I’m terribly sorry to have to contradict you, Minerva, but as you will see from my note, Harry has been achieving very poor results in his classes with me –’
‘I should have made my meaning plainer,’ said Professor McGonagall, turning at last to look Umbridge directly in the eyes. ‘He has achieved high marks in all Defence Against the Dark Arts tests set by a competent teacher.’
Professor Umbridge’s smile vanished as suddenly as a light bulb blowing. She sat back in her chair, turned a sheet on her clipboard and began scribbling very fast indeed, her bulging eyes rolling from side to side. Professor McGonagall turned back to Harry, her thin nostrils flared, her eyes burning.
[…]
‘Well, you’ll need to demonstrate the ability to react well to pressure and so forth,’ said Professor McGonagall, ‘perseverance and dedication, because Auror training takes a further three years, not to mention very high skills in practical Defence. It will mean a lot more study even after you’ve left school, so unless you’re prepared to –’
‘I think you will also find,’ said Umbridge, her voice very cold now, ‘that the Ministry looks into the records of those applying to be Aurors. Their criminal records.’
‘– unless you’re prepared to take even more exams after Hogwarts, you should really look at another –’
‘Which means that this boy has as much chance of becoming an Auror as Dumbledore has of ever returning to this school.’
‘A very good chance, then,’ said Professor McGonagall.
‘Potter has a criminal record,’ said Umbridge loudly.
‘Potter has been cleared of all charges,’ said McGonagall, even more loudly.
Professor Umbridge stood up. She was so short that this did not make a great deal of difference, but her fussy, simpering demeanour had given place to a hard fury that made her broad, flabby face look oddly sinister.
‘Potter has no chance whatsoever of becoming an Auror!’
Professor McGonagall got to her feet, too, and in her case this was a much more impressive move; she towered over Professor Umbridge.
‘Potter,’ she said in ringing tones, ‘I will assist you to become an Auror if it is the last thing I do! If I have to coach you nightly, I will make sure you achieve the required results!’

‘Only the difference between truth and lies, courage and cowardice,’ said Professor McGonagall, who had turned pale, ‘a difference, in short, which you and your sister seem unable to appreciate. But let me make one thing very clear. You are not going to pass off your many ineptitudes on the students of Hogwarts. I shall not permit it.’
‘Excuse me?’
Amycus moved forwards until he was offensively close to Professor McGonagall, his face within inches of hers. She refused to back away, but looked down at him as if he were something disgusting she had found stuck to a lavatory seat.
‘It’s not a case of what you’ll permit, Minerva McGonagall. Your time’s over. It’s us what’s in charge here now, and you’ll back me up or you’ll pay the price.’
And he spat in her face.
Harry pulled the Cloak off himself, raised his wand and said, ‘You shouldn’t have done that.’
As Amycus spun round, Harry shouted, ‘Crucio!’
The Death Eater was lifted off his feet. He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain, and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass, he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor.
‘I see what Bellatrix meant,’ said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, ‘you need to really mean it.’
‘Potter!’ whispered Professor McGonagall, clutching her heart. ‘Potter – you’re here! What –? How –?’ She struggled to pull herself together. ‘Potter, that was foolish!’
‘He spat at you,’ said Harry.
‘Potter, I – that was very – very gallant of you – but don’t you realise –?’

I am a huge McGonagall fan so naturally i have always put a lot of thought into the scenes that she appears in. After reading the series several times i have determined that there are two scences that truley define her character...

First: The first chaper of Harry Potter and the Scorcers Stone (The Boy Who Lived)... This is the scene is where we are first introduced to our beloved Professor, and as a result it makes a lasting impression on her fans. In this scene we get a real feel for Minerva's personality; we learn that she is rather sever and detatched at points, but, more importantly, we see that when she drops her formal demenur she can be a very motherly figure. She objects to leaving Harry with the Dursleys because they are so differnt form wizards in general. She is trying, at this point, to protect Harry from unhappieness, just as a mother would. Reading between the line we realize that she would have happily raised harry herself rather than leave him there.

Second: Chapther 36 of "Deathly Hallows"
Rowling describes:
"NO"
The Screame was the more terrible because he never expected or dreamed that Professor McGonagall could make such a sound....

- This second definig scene comes at the very end of the book when Voldemort brings harry's "dead" body to the castle. Minerva's despair is the first we hear, and that makes a powerful statement. Her greif is reminescent of a mother mournig a child, because that is exactly what it is. McGonagall was alwasy a solid prescence in Harry's life: She was his Head of House, Teacher, Order Member, and his allie when he first reentered the castle to find the horcrux. Though she was not the only mother figure Harry knew, she was always very instramental in his life, even if he didnt realize it

wow, I almost loved every moment...

I could post my favourite lines from the book but they're in german hahaha

I wouldn't mind! I'm German! :P

"Nehmen sie sich einen Keks, Potter!"

"Darf ich ihnen ein Hustenbonbon anbieten, Dolores?"

"Potter", sagte sie glockenhell, "ich werde ihnen helfen ein Auror zu werden, und wenn es das Letzte ist, was ich tue."

"Wie können sie es wagen?"

"Warum sollte Potter versuchen, in den Ravenclaw-Turm hineinzukommen? Potter gehört in mein Haus!"

"Potter, ich-das war sehr-sehr ritterlich von Ihnen-aber ist Ihnen nicht klar-?"

"Wir werden die Schule gegen Ihn, dessen Name nicht genannt werden darf, sichern, während sie nach diesem-diesem Gegenstand suchen"
Harry: "Ist das denn möglich?"
"Ich denke schon", sagte Professor McGonagall trocken, "wir Lehrer sind ziemlich gut in Zauberei, wissen sie."

"Unser Schulleiter macht eine kurze Pause", sagte Professor McGonagall und deutete auf das snapeförmige Loch im Fenster.

...die anderen Bücher hab ich gerade nicht zur Hand...das kommt dann später

Ah, I can't believe it, like in all the other movies before they left out my favourite Minerva-moments!! WHY???

They make her seem like some funny old maiden in the movies, that's not fair

the Christmas dinner in POA is also one of her best moments :) in the films they have no time for classy characters like her...she will live with class in the books :p

'Certainly, certainly,' said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. 'Let me draw you up a chair –'
[…] Professor Trelawney, however, did not sit down; her enormous eyes had been roving around the table, and she suddenly uttered a kind of soft scream.
'I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!'
'We'll risk it, Sybill,' said Professor McGonagall impatiently. 'Do sit down, the turkey's getting stone cold.'

On Lupin's absence: 'But surely you already knew that, Sybill?' said Professor McGonagall, her eyebrows raised.
Professor Trelawney gave Professor McGonagall a very cold look.
'Certainly I knew, Minerva,' she said quietly. 'But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as not to make others nervous.'
'That explains a great deal,' said Professor McGonagall tartly.
Professor Trelawney's voice suddenly became a good deal less misty.
'If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal-gaze for him –'
'Imagine that,' said Professor McGonagall drily.

Harry and Ron got up first from the table and she shrieked loudly.
'My dears! Which of you left his seat first? Which?'
'Dunno,' said Ron, looking uneasily at Harry.
'I doubt it will make much difference,' said Professor McGonagall coldly, 'unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the Entrance Hall.'

oh yes, right, her comments on Trealawney....hahahaha wonderful!!!

"Imagine that" :-)

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 for Magic, was rocking backwards and forwards on his toes beside the fire, apparently immensely pleased with the situation; Kingsley Shacklebolt and a tough-looking wizard with very short wiry hair whom Harry did not recognise, were positioned 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.

The portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses were not shamming sleep tonight. All of them were alert and serious, watching what was happening below them. As Harry entered, a few flitted into neighbouring frames and whispered urgently into their neighbour's ear.

Harry pulled himself free of Umbridge's grasp as the door swung shut behind them. Cornelius Fudge was glaring at him with a kind of vicious satisfaction on his face.

'Well,' he said. 'Well, well, well ...'

Harry replied with the dirtiest look he could muster. His heart drummed madly inside him, but his brain was oddly cool and clear.

'He was heading back to Gryffindor Tower,' said Umbridge. There was an indecent excitement in her voice, the same callous pleasure Harry had heard as she watched Professor Trelawney dissolving with misery in the Entrance Hall. 'The Malfoy boy cornered him.'

'Did he, did he?' said Fudge appreciatively. 'I must remember to tell Lucius. Well, Potter ... I expect you know why you are here?'

Harry fully intended to respond with a defiant 'yes': his mouth had opened and the word was half-formed when he caught sight of Dumbledore's face. Dumbledore was not looking directly at Harry--his eyes were fixed on a point just over his shoulder--but as Harry stared at him, he shook his head a fraction of an inch to each side.

Harry changed direction mid-word.

'Ye--no.'

'I beg your pardon?' said Fudge.

'No,' said Harry, firmly.

'You don't know why you are here?'

'No, I don't,' said Harry.

Fudge looked incredulously from Harry to Professor Umbridge. Harry took advantage of his momentary inattention to steal another quick look at Dumbledore, who gave the carpet the tiniest of nods and the shadow of a wink.

'So you have no idea,' said Fudge, in a voice positively sagging with sarcasm, 'why Professor Umbridge has brought you to this office? You are not aware that you have broken any school rules?'

'School rules?' said Harry. 'No.'

'Or Ministry Decrees?' amended Fudge angrily.

'Not that I'm aware of,' said Harry blandly.

His heart was still hammering very fast. It was almost worth telling these lies to watch Fudges blood pressure rising, but he could not see how on earth he would get away with them; if somebody had tipped off Umbridge about the DA then he, the leader, might as well be packing his trunk right now.

'So, it's news to you, is it,' said Fudge, his voice now thick with anger, 'that an illegal student organisation has been discovered within this school?'

'Yes, it is,' said Harry, hoisting an unconvincing look of innocent surprise on to his face.

'I think, Minister,' said Umbridge silkily from beside him, 'we might make better progress if I fetch our informant.'

'Yes, yes, do,' said Fudge, nodding, and he glanced maliciously at Dumbledore as Umbridge left the room. 'There's nothing like a good witness, is there, Dumbledore?'

'Nothing at all, Cornelius,' said Dumbledore gravely, inclining his head.

There was a wait of several minutes, in which nobody looked at each other, then Harry heard the door open behind him. Umbridge moved past him into the room, gripping by the shoulder Cho's curly-haired friend, Marietta, who was hiding her face in her hands.

'Don't be scared, dear, don't be frightened,' said Professor Umbridge softly, patting her on the back, 'it's quite all right, now. You have done the right thing. The Minister is very pleased with you. He'll be telling your mother what a good girl you've been. Marietta's mother, Minister,' she added, looking up at Fudge, 'is Madam Edgecombe from the Department of Magical Transportation, Floo Network office-- she's been helping us police the Hogwart's fires, you know.'

'Jolly good, jolly good!' said Fudge heartily. 'Like mother, like daughter, eh? Well, come on, now, dear, look up, don't be shy, let's hear what you've got to--galloping gargoyles!'

As Marietta raised her head, Fudge leapt backwards in shock, nearly landing himself in the fire. He cursed, and stamped on the hem of his cloak which had started to smoke. Marietta gave a wail and pulled the neck of her robes right up to her eyes, but not before everyone had seen that her face was horribly disfigured by a series of close-set purple pustules that had spread across her nose and cheeks to form the word 'SNEAK'.

'Never mind the spots now, dear,' said Umbridge impatiently, 'just take your robes away from your mouth and tell the Minister--'

But Marietta gave another muffled wail and shook her head frantically.

'Oh, very well, you silly girl, I'll tell him,' snapped Umbridge. She hitched her sickly smile back on to her face and said, 'Well, Minister, Miss Edgecombe here came to my office shortly after dinner this evening and told me she had something she wanted to tell me. She said that if I proceeded to a secret room on the seventh floor, sometimes known as the Room of Requirement, I would find out something to my advantage. I questioned her a little further and she admitted that there was to be some kind of meeting there. Unfortunately, at that point this hex,' she waved impatiently at Marietta's concealed face, 'came into operation and upon catching sight of her face in my mirror the girl became too distressed to tell me any more.'

'Well, now,' said Fudge, fixing Marietta with what he evidently imagined was a kind and fatherly look, 'it is very brave of you, my dear, coming to tell Professor Umbridge. You did exactly the right thing. Now, will you tell me what happened at this meeting? What was its purpose? Who was there?'

But Marietta would not speak; she merely shook her head again, her eyes wide and fearful.

'Haven't we got a counter-jinx for this?' Fudge asked Umbridge impatiently, gesturing at Marietta's face. 'So she can speak freely?'

'I have not yet managed to find one,' Umbridge admitted grudgingly, and Harry felt a surge of pride in Hermione's jinxing ability 'But it doesn't matter if she won't speak, I can take up the story from here.

'You will remember, Minister, that I sent you a report back in October that Potter had met a number of fellow students in the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade--'

'And what is your evidence for that?' cut in Professor McGonagall.

'I have testimony from Willy Widdershins, Minerva, who happened to be in the bar at the time. He was heavily bandaged, it is true, but his hearing was quite unimpaired,' said Umbridge smugly. 'He heard every word Potter said and hastened straight to the school to report to me--'

'Oh, so that's why he wasn't prosecuted for setting up all those regurgitating toilets!' said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows. 'What an interesting insight into our justice system!'

'Blatant corruption!' roared the portrait of the corpulent, red-nosed wizard on the wall behind Dumbledore's desk. 'The Ministry did not cut deals with petty criminals in my day, no sir, they did not!'

'Thank you, Fortescue, that will do,' said Dumbledore softly.

'The purpose of Potter's meeting with these students,' continued Professor Umbridge, 'was to persuade them to join an illegal society, whose aim was to learn spells and curses the Ministry has decided are inappropriate for school-age--'

'I think you'll find you're wrong there, Dolores,' said Dumbledore quietly, peering at her over the half-moon spectacles perched halfway down his crooked nose.

Harry stared at him. He could not see how Dumbledore was going to talk him out of this one; if Willy Widdershins had indeed heard every word he had said in the Hog's Head there was simply no escaping it.

'Oho!' said Fudge, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet again. 'Yes, do let's hear the latest cock-and-bull story designed to pull Potter out of trouble! Go on, then, Dumbledore, go on--'

'Willy Widdershins was lying, was he? Or was it Potter's identical twin in the Hog's Head that day? Or is there the usual simple explanation involving a reversal of time, a dead man coming back to life and a couple of invisible dementors?'

Percy Weasley let out a hearty laugh.

'Oh, very good, Minister, very good!'

Harry could have kicked him. Then he saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore was smiling gently, too.

'Cornelius, I do not deny--and nor, I am sure, does Harry--that he was in the Hog's Head that day, nor that he was trying to recruit students to a Defence Against the Dark Arts group. I am merely pointing out that Dolores is quite wrong to suggest that such a group was, at that time, illegal. If you remember, the Ministry Decree banning all student societies was not put into effect until two days after Harry's Hogsmeade meeting, so he was not breaking any rules at all in the Hog's Head.'

Percy looked as though he had been struck in the face by something very heavy. Fudge remained motionless in mid-bounce, his mouth hanging open.

Umbridge recovered first.

'That's all very fine, Headmaster,' she said, smiling sweetly, 'but we are now nearly six months on from the introduction of Educational Decree Number Twenty-four. If the first meeting was not illegal, all those that have happened since most certainly are.'

'Well,' said Dumbledore, surveying her with polite interest over the top of his interlocked fingers, 'they certainly would be, if they had continued after the Decree came into effect. Do you have any evidence that any such meetings continued?'

As Dumbledore spoke, Harry heard a rustle behind him and rather thought Kingsley whispered something. He could have sworn, too, that he felt something brush against his side, a gentle something like a draught or bird wings, but looking down he saw nothing there.

'Evidence?' repeated Umbridge, with that horrible wide toad-like smile. 'Have you not been listening, Dumbledore? Why do you think Miss Edgecombe is here?'

'Oh, can she tell us about six months' worth of meetings?' said Dumbledore, raising his eyebrows. 'I was under the impression that she was merely reporting a meeting tonight.'

'Miss Edgecombe,' said Umbridge at once, 'tell us how long these meetings have been going on, dear. You can simply nod or shake your head, I'm sure that won't make the spots worse. Have they been happening regularly over the last six months?'

Harry felt a horrible plummeting in his stomach. This was it, they had hit a dead end of solid evidence that not even Dumbledore would be able to shift aside.

'Just nod or shake your head, dear,' Umbridge said coaxingly to Marietta, 'come on, now, that won't re-activate the jinx.'

Everyone in the room was gazing at the top of Marietta's face. Only her eyes were visible between the pulled-up robes and her curly fringe. Perhaps it was a trick of the firelight, but her eyes looked oddly blank. And then--to Harry's utter amazement--Marietta shook her head.

Umbridge looked quickly at Fudge, then back at Marietta.

'I don't think you understood the question, did you, dear? I'm asking whether you've been going to these meetings for the past six months? You have, haven't you?'

Again, Marietta shook her head.

'What do you mean by shaking your head, dear?' said Umbridge in a testy voice.

'I would have thought her meaning was quite clear,' said Professor McGonagall harshly, 'there have been no secret meetings for the past six months. Is that correct, Miss Edgecombe?'

Marietta nodded.

'But there was a meeting tonight!' said Umbridge furiously. 'There was a meeting, Miss Edgecombe, you told me about it, in the Room of Requirement! And Potter was the leader, was he not, Potter organised it, Potter--why are you shaking your head, girl?'

'Well, usually when a person shakes their head,' said McGonagall coldly, 'they mean "no". So unless Miss Edgecombe is using a form of sign-language as yet unknown to humans--'

Professor Umbridge seized Marietta, pulled her round to face her and began shaking her very hard. A split second later Dumbledore was on his feet, his wand raised; Kingsley started forwards and Umbridge leapt back from Marietta, waving her hands in the air as though they had been burned.

'I cannot allow you to manhandle my students, Dolores,' said Dumbledore and, for the first time, he looked angry.

'You want to calm yourself, Madam Umbridge,' said Kingsley, in his deep, slow voice. 'You don't want to get yourself into trouble, now.'

'No,' said Umbridge breathlessly, glancing up at the towering figure of Kingsley. 'I mean, yes--you're right, Shacklebolt--I--I forgot myself.'

Marietta was standing exactly where Umbridge had released her. She seemed neither perturbed by Umbridge's sudden attack, nor relieved by her release; she was still clutching her robe up to her oddly blank eyes and staring straight ahead of her.

A sudden suspicion, connected to Kingsley's whisper and the thing he had felt shoot past him, sprang into Harry's mind.

'Dolores,' said Fudge, with the air of trying to settle something once and for all, 'the meeting tonight--the one we know definitely happened--'

'Yes,' said Umbridge, pulling herself together, 'yes ... well, Miss Edgecombe tipped me off and I proceeded at once to the seventh floor, accompanied by certain trustworthy students, so as to catch those in the meeting red-handed. It appears that they were forewarned of my arrival, however, because when we reached the seventh floor they were running in every direction. It does not matter, however. I have all their names here, Miss Parkinson ran into the Room of Requirement for me to see if they had left anything behind. We needed evidence and the room provided.'

And to Harry's horror, she withdrew from her pocket the list of names that had been pinned upon the Room of Requirement's wall and handed it to Fudge.

'The moment I saw Potter's name on the list, I knew what we were dealing with,' she said softly.

'Excellent,' said Fudge, a smile spreading across his face, 'excellent, Dolores. And ... by thunder ...'

He looked up at Dumbledore, who was still standing beside Marietta, his wand held loosely in his hand.

'See what they've named themselves?' said Fudge quietly. 'Dumbledore's Army.'

Dumbledore reached out and took the piece of parchment from Fudge. He gazed at the heading scribbled by Hermione months before and for a moment seemed unable to speak. Then he looked up, smiling.

'Well, the game is up,' he said simply. 'Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelius --or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?'

Harry saw McGonagall and Kingsley look at each other. There was fear in both faces. He did not understand what was going on, and nor, apparently, did Fudge.

'Statement?' said Fudge slowly. 'What--I don't--?'

'Dumbledore's Army, Cornelius,' said Dumbledore, still smiling as he waved the list of names before Fudge's face. 'Not Potter's Army. Dumbledore's Army.'

'But--but--'

Understanding blazed suddenly in Fudge's face. He took a horrified step backwards, yelped, and jumped out of the fire again.

'You?' he whispered, stamping again on his smouldering cloak.

'That's right,' said Dumbledore pleasantly.

'You organised this?'

'I did,' said Dumbledore.

'You recruited these students for--for your army?'

'Tonight was supposed to be the first meeting,' said Dumbledore, nodding. 'Merely to see whether they would be interested in joining me. I see now that it was a mistake to invite Miss Edgecombe, of course.'

Marietta nodded. Fudge looked from her to Dumbledore, his chest swelling.

'Then you have been plotting against me!' he yelled.

'That's right,' said Dumbledore cheerfully.

'NO!' shouted Harry.

Kingsley flashed a look of warning at him, McGonagall widened her eyes threateningly, but it had suddenly dawned on Harry what Dumbledore was about to do, and he could not let it happen.

'No--Professor Dumbledore--!'

'Be quiet, Harry, or I am afraid you will have to leave my office,' said Dumbledore calmly.

'Yes, shut up, Potter!' barked Fudge, who was still ogling Dumbledore with a kind of horrified delight. 'Well, well, well--I came here tonight expecting to expel Potter and instead--'

'Instead you get to arrest me,' said Dumbledore, smiling. 'It's like losing a Knut and finding a Galleon, isn't it?'

'Weasley!' cried Fudge, now positively quivering with delight, 'Weasley, have you written it all down, everything he's said, his confession, have you got it?'

'Yes, sir, I think so, sir!' said Percy eagerly, whose nose was splattered with ink from the speed of his note-taking.

'The bit about how he's been trying to build up an army against the Ministry, how he's been working to destabilise me?'

'Yes, sir, I've got it, yes!' said Percy, scanning his notes joyfully.

'Very well, then,' said Fudge, now radiant with glee, 'duplicate your notes, Weasley, and send a copy to the Daily Prophet at once. If we send a fast owl we should make the morning edition!' Percy dashed from the room, slamming the door behind him, and Fudge turned back to Dumbledore. 'You will now be escorted back to the Ministry, where you will be formally charged, then sent to Azkaban to await trial!'

'Ah,' said Dumbledore gently, 'yes. Yes, I thought we might hit that little snag.'

'Snag?' said Fudge, his voice still vibrating with joy. 'I see no snag, Dumbledore!'

Well,' said Dumbledore apologetically, 'I'm afraid I do.'

'Oh, really?'

Well--it's just that you seem to be labouring under the delusion that I am going to--what is the phrase?--come quietly.I am afraid I am not going to come quietly at all, Cornelius. I have absolutely no intention of being sent to Azkaban. I could break out, of course--but what a waste of time, and frankly, I can think of a whole host of things I would rather be doing.'

Umbridge's face was growing steadily redder; she looked as though she was being filled with boiling water. Fudge stared at Dumbledore with a very silly expression on his face, as though he had just been stunned by a sudden blow and could not quite believe it had happened. He made a small choking noise, then looked round at Kingsley and the man with short grey hair, who alone of everyone in the room had remained entirely silent so far. The latter gave Fudge a reassuring nod and moved forwards a little, away from the wall. Harry saw his hand drift, almost casually, towards his pocket.

'Don't be silly, Dawlish,' said Dumbledore kindly. 'I'm sure you are an excellent Auror--I seem to remember that you achieved "Outstanding" in all your NEWTs--but if you attempt to--er--bring me in by force, I will have to hurt you.'

The man called Dawlish blinked rather foolishly. He looked towards Fudge again, but this time seemed to be hoping for a clue as to what to do next.

'So,' sneered Fudge, recovering himself, 'you intend to take on Dawlish, Shacklebolt, Dolores and myself single-handed, do you, Dumbledore?'

'Merlin's beard, no,' said Dumbledore, smiling, 'not unless you are foolish enough to force me to.'

'He will not be single-handed!' said Professor McGonagall loudly, plunging her hand inside her robes.

'Oh yes he will, Minerva!' said Dumbledore sharply. 'Hogwarts needs you!'

'Enough of this rubbish!' said Fudge, pulling out his own wand. 'Dawlish! Shacklebolt! Take him!'

A streak of silver light flashed around the room; there was a bang like a gunshot and the floor trembled; a hand grabbed the scruff of Harry's neck and forced him down on the floor as a second silver flash went off; several of the portraits yelled, Fawkes screeched and a cloud of dust filled the air. Coughing in the dust, Harry saw a dark figure fall to the ground with a crash in front of him; there was a shriek and a thud and somebody cried, 'No!'; then there was the sound of breaking glass, frantically scuffling footsteps, a groan ... and silence.

Harry struggled around to see who was half-strangling him and saw Professor McGonagall crouched beside him; she had forced both him and Marietta out of harm's way. Dust was still floating gently down through the air on to them. Panting slightly, Harry saw a very tall figure moving towards them.

'Are you all right?' Dumbledore asked.

'Yes!' said Professor McGonagall, getting up and dragging Harry and Marietta with her.

The dust was clearing. The wreckage of the office loomed into view: Dumbledore's desk had been overturned, all of the spindly tables had been knocked to the floor, their silver instruments in pieces. Fudge, Umbridge, Kingsley and Dawlish lay motionless on the floor. Fawkes the phoenix soared in wide circles above them, singing softly.

'Unfortunately, I had to hex Kingsley too, or it would have looked very suspicious,' said Dumbledore in a low voice. 'He was remarkably quick on the uptake, modifying Miss Edgecombe's memory like that while everyone was looking the other way-- thank him, for me, won't you, Minerva?

'Now, they will all awake very soon and it will be best if they do not know that we had time to communicate--you must act as though no time has passed, as though they were merely knocked to the ground, they will not remember--'

'Where will you go, Dumbledore?' whispered Professor McGonagall. 'Grimmauld Place?'

'Oh no,' said Dumbledore, with a grim smile, 'I am not leaving to go into hiding. Fudge will soon wish he'd never dislodged me from Hogwarts, I promise you.'

'Professor Dumbledore ...' Harry began.

He did not know what to say first: how sorry he was that he had started the DA in the first place and caused all this trouble, or how terrible he felt that Dumbledore was leaving to save him from expulsion? But Dumbledore cut him off before he could say another word.

'Listen to me, Harry,' he said urgently. 'You must study Occlumency as hard as you can, do you understand me? Do everything Professor Snape tells you and practise it particularly every night before sleeping so that you can close your mind to bad dreams--you will understand why soon enough, but you must promise me--'

The man called Dawlish was stirring. Dumbledore seized Harry's wrist.

'Remember--close your mind--'

But as Dumbledore's fingers closed over Harry's skin, a pain shot through the scar on his forehead and he felt again that terrible, snakelike longing to strike Dumbledore, to bite him, to hurt him--

'--you will understand,' whispered Dumbledore.

Fawkes circled the office and swooped low over him. Dumbledore released Harry, raised his hand and grasped the phoenix's long golden tail. There was a flash of fire and the pair of them were gone.

'Where is he?' yelled Fudge, pushing himself up from the floor. 'Where is he?'

'I don't know!' shouted Kingsley, also leaping to his feet.

'Well, he can't have Disapparated!' cried Umbridge. 'You can't do it from inside this school-- '

'The stairs!' cried Dawlish, and he flung himself upon the door, wrenched it open and disappeared, followed closely by Kingsley and Umbridge. Fudge hesitated, then got slowly to his feet, brushing dust from his front. There was a long and painful silence.

'Well, Minerva,' said Fudge nastily, straightening his torn shirtsleeve, 'I'm afraid this is the end of your friend Dumbledore.'

'You think so, do you?' said Professor McGonagall scornfully.

Fudge seemed not to hear her. He was looking around at the wrecked office. A few of the portraits hissed at him; one or two even made rude hand gestures.

'You'd better get those two off to bed,' said Fudge, looking back at Professor McGonagall with a dismissive nod towards Harry and Marietta.

Professor McGonagall said nothing, but marched Harry and Marietta to the door. As it swung closed behind them

i am sorry to put up almost a whole chapter....but i freaking LOVE it!!!!!

Whoa!! :D Yeah, it's a great chapter!

yes, a really great scene!! I was sad they didn't put it into the movie...:-( only a really crippled version of it

crippled and how!!! not only because there was no Minerva...but also for the fact that Micheal Gambon never really seemed to be the right person to play Dumbledore

'Look!' squealed Parvati, who was leaning over the parapet and pointing to the foot of the castle where the front doors had opened again; more light was spilling out on to the dark lawn and a single long black shadow was now rippling across the lawn.

'Now, really!' said Professor Tofty anxiously. 'Only sixteen minutes left, you know!'

But nobody paid him the slightest attention: they were watching the person now sprinting towards the battle beside Hagrid's cabin.

'How dare you!' the figure shouted as she ran. 'How dare you!'

'It's McGonagall!' whispered Hermione.

'Leave him alone! Alone,I say!' said Professor McGonagall's voice through the darkness. 'On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such--'

Hermione, Parvati and Lavender all screamed. The figures around the cabin had shot no fewer than four Stunners at Professor McGonagall. Halfway between cabin and castle the red beams collided with her; for a moment she looked luminous and glowed an eerie red, then she lifted right off her feet, landed hard on her back, and moved no more.

"That's Fudge's voice," she whispered. "And that's Minerva McGonagall's, isn't it? But what are they arguing about?"

Now Harry could hear them too: people shouting and running toward the hospital wing.

"Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva -" Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly.

"You should never have brought it inside the castle!" yelled Professor McGonagall. "When Dumbledore finds out -"

Harry heard the hospital doors burst open. Unnoticed by any of the people around his bed, all of whom were staring at the door as Bill pulled back the screens, Harry sat up and put his glasses back on.

Fudge came striding up the ward. Professors McGonagall and Snape were at his heels.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Fudge demanded of Mrs. Weasley.

"He's not here," said Mrs. Weasley angrily. "This is a hospital wing. Minister, don't you think you'd do better to -"

But the door opened, and Dumbledore came sweeping up the ward.

"What has happened?" said Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall. "Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you - I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch -"

"There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!" she shrieked. "The Minister has seen to that!"

Harry had never seen Professor McGonagall lose control like this. There were angry blotches of color in her cheeks, and a hands were balled into fists; she was trembling with fury.-

"When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events," said Snape, in a low voice; he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch -"

"I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!" McGonagall fumed. "I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but -"

"My dear woman!" roared Fudge, who likewise looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him, "as Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous -"

But Professor McGonagall's voice drowned Fudge's.

"The moment that - that thing entered the room," she screamed, pointing at Fudge, trembling all over, "it swooped down on Crouch and - and -"

Harry felt a chill in his stomach as Professor McGonagall struggled to find words to describe what had happened. He did not need her to finish her sentence. He knew what the dementor must have done. It had administered its fatal kiss to Barty Crouch. It had sucked his soul out through his mouth. He was worse than dead.
.....................
"You fool!" Professor McGonagall cried. "Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!"

"I see no evidence to the contrary!" shouted Fudge, now matching her anger, his face purpling. "It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!"

'Parting of the Ways' was another powerful chapter which set the tone for OOTP...but sadly it was ignored too

"Get back!" shouted Ron, and he, Harry, and Hermione flattened themselves against a door as a herd of galloping desks thundered past, shepherded by a sprinting Professor McGonagall. She appeared not to notice them. Her hair had come down and there was a gash on her cheek. As she turned the corner, they heard her scream, "CHARGE!"