Ernest had much better things to do with his time than sit in a meeting that didn't particularly concern his department — as, apparently, did his department head, because Mrs. Lestrange had sent him in her stead. Perhaps he was being punished for some sin he'd forgotten he committed. Perhaps she was still irked about when he'd accidentally broken time for a day. Maybe this was penance for not having properly filed all of the paperwork relating to the unfortunate transfiguration of Mr. Pickering, the lift operator, into a chicken. Whatever the case, he had been sent up to the conference room and had dutifully taken his chair. He had then proceeded to pretend to be watching the presentation and taking notes, while he doodled on a notebook he'd brought up.

The first order of business, apparently, was to discuss the Quidditch season, which Ernest really could not have cared less about. He yawned into a handkerchief and went back to doodling, content to pretend he was listening and had nothing to contribute unless the Minister actually forced him to add something.