Inside the Headmaster's Office.
Dumbledore was making tea at his desk. Kettles on two small red-clay stoves bubbled with boiling water.
Dumbledore clearly wasn't one to do everything himself, nor did he care for putting on refined airs. He crooked his index finger.
The dozen or so porcelain cups on the desk seemed to come alive. They sprouted pairs of feet, lined up in a tap-dancing procession, and hopped into the boiling water for a bath, laughing and frolicking all the while.
Then the cups jumped out of the boiling water one by one.
Next, the leaves in the tea caddy rolled themselves into little bundles and dropped into the cups.
Finally, a thin, steaming stream shot out of the other kettle and poured into the cups.
The tea leaves slowly unfurled, their fragrance gradually spreading.
It was a very magical way to brew tea.
Dumbledore crooked his finger again, and all the cups floated up and flew toward the people in the room.
There were many people present, and just moments ago, the room had been rather noisy.
Now they were all staring at one another as they watched Dumbledore perform his tricks.
Fudge picked up the cup floating before him and immediately burned himself, making him even more impatient.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, can't you give me a straight answer?"
Dumbledore lifted his cup and blew on it, his expression unreadable.
"Cornelius, handling matters is rather like drinking tea. You need a little patience, or you risk getting burned. Besides, aren't the facts already quite clear?"
Fudge was furious. All he wanted was to hear this most powerful of light wizards say that he stood on his side.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, these are all lies! Someone simply can't stand seeing peace and happiness in the wizarding world!"
Dumbledore took a light