Well, he can't have Disapparated!’

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, Harry heard Phineas Nigellus's voice.

‘You know, Minister, I disagree with Dumbledore on many counts ... but you cannot deny he's got style ...’