Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

Everybody left the lift on this floor except Mr. Weasley, Harry, and a witch who was reading an extremely long piece of parchment that was trailing on the ground. The remaining memos continued to soar around the lamp as the lift juddered upward again,

“Here we are,” said Mr. Weasley brightly, pointing at an old red telephone box, which was missing several panes of glass and stood before a heavily graffittied wall. “After you, Harry.”
He opened the telephone box door.
Harry stepped inside, wondering what on earth this was about.

“I think we’ll go now,” he said. “We’re a bit early, but I think you’ll be better off there than hanging around here.”
“Okay,” said Harry automatically, dropping his toast and getting to his feet.

“Don’t lose your temper,” said Sirius abruptly. “Be polite and stick to the facts.”

“How are you feeling?”
Harry shrugged.
“It’ll all be over soon,” Mr. Weasley said bracingly.
<…>
Harry nodded, still unable to think of anything to say.

He wished she wouldn’t.

Mrs. Weasley placed a couple of pieces of toast and marmalade in front of him; he tried to eat, but it was like chewing carpet.

he pushed it open he saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, Lupin, and Tonks sitting there almost as though they were waiting for him.

Sirius stabbed moodily at a potato with his fork. Harry dropped his own eyes to his plate. The thought that Dumbledore had been in the house on the eve of his hearing and not asked to see him made him feel, if that were possible, even worse.

“How am I getting there?” he asked Mrs. Weasley, trying to sound unconcerned.
“Arthur’s taking you to work with him,” said Mrs. Weasley gently.
Mr. Weasley smiled encouragingly at Harry across the table.
“You can wait in my office until it’s time for the hearing,” he said.