AN: This takes place shortly after the dementors attack Harry and Dudley at the beginning of Order of the Phoenix, starting with the hearing for Harry's use of underage magic against them. It's loosely based on some of the events that happen in the book. Any and all criticism is welcome! I try to get back to everyone who leaves a comment, so please do! Feel free to leave a review of what you think or PM me.

"Late to your own hearing, are you girl?" Madam Bones glared down her thin nose at Harriet. "You may think you own the wizarding world, Ms. Potter, but I assure you that is not the case."

"I..." Harriet swallowed thickly, her words caught in her throat not for the first time that morning. "I'm sorry, I didn't know-"

"That the time of the hearing was changed?" Madam Bones quickly supplied. "An owl was sent to your residence ahead of time."

"I'm sorry," Harriet apologized again, knowing little else to do with herself. They'd sent the owl to Privet Drive no doubt, but it wasn't as though she could simply explain to them that she'd been snatched up by the Order and living in their secret headquarters ever since the attack. "I live with muggles. They don't like owls. Or me. They must have taken the letter and thrown it away..."

Madam Bones raised her hand to quiet her, not caring for Harriet's explanation in the slightest. "You'd do well not to tell any more stories, Ms. Potter."

"Take your seat," Fudge ordered, taking great in joy in being able to do so, and waved his wand so that a chair was whisked to the center of the courtroom floor. "I'd rather not waste my morning here if I can help it."

He smiled and some of the court chuckled in agreement. Fudge had clearly already made up his mind about how this would end - had made up some of their minds, too. But it was the farthest thing from her mind as she caught sight of which chair it was he'd sent.

It made a horrible scraping noise as it traveled to her. A tremor to ran down Harriet's spine at the sound. It wasn't so long ago that she'd seen Barty Crouch sitting in the exact same chair, the long silver chains locked to his wrist and cuffing him there along with his fellow Death Eaters on trial. The one's who had tortured Neville's parents...

Those chains were twinkling at her now, inviting her to take a seat. She was going to be sick...

Harriet took care to balance herself on the very edge.

She felt hot. Like one of the ants trapped under Dudley's magnifying glass when they were children. There were at least fifty members of the court staring down at her from the pulpit, all with the same appraising look in their eye.

Percy Weasley sat to her right. He did not meet her heated look or give her any sign of recognition, quill poised at the ready to copy down notes for his beloved Minister. He glanced up at Fudge from over his small framed glasses, being especially careful not to let his gaze pass over Harriet. It made her nauseous and furious all at once. "Ready, sir."

Fudge gave an appreciative nod to him, coughed to clear his throat, then called the court into order. "Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August into offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harriet Lily Potter, resident of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

Percy copied all of that down quickly. It reminded Harriet of Rita Skeeter and her Quick-Quotes Quill, how it anxiously scribbled away at the parchment for her without Rita having to ever move her hand. Surely Percy could afford one as nice as hers with all the money he was getting being Fudge's personal assistant, his lapdog - from being so much more 'ambitious' than his father.

Harriet thought he ought to be ashamed of himself, but the feeling did not last long. Fudge was nearly finished going through his rather long list of attendees, sweeping away any other concerns she might have had. She couldn't recognize any of the names, aside from his own and Percy's. Her heart was thrumming against her ribs as he finished on a rather soundly 'Logain Pubumpkin'.

"Very good. Now that we're all accounted for-"

"You should add that Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is standing as Ms. Potter's defense, of course."

"Oh," Fudge grimaced as Dumbledore entered the courtroom, tapping his fat fingers against the wooden slat in front of him. "You're here. I see you got our letter about the rescheduling, then?"

"No, I'm afraid I missed it. However, I did come three hours early. So it wasn't any trouble at all."

"How fortunate..."

"Rather unfortunate that I was unable to receive the letter to begin with, I would say. But, ah well."

Dumbledore looked calm in the face of everything, and Harriet's fastly beating heart swelled with hope. If anyone could sort this out it would be him. She was going to make it out of this.

...Only he wasn't looking at her, she realized. No matter how long she stared at him, hoping he would give her some sort of sign that everything would be okay, he never looked her way. Harriet's brows furrowed, wondering why that was before her attention was forcible snapped back to Fudge.

"You are Harriet Jane Potter of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, correct?"

"Yes," she answered. Sirius's words hung fresh in her mind. Stay calm and stick to the truth. Everything will work itself out. "Yes. I am."

"You received an official, documented warning from the Ministry for a similar incident concerning your use of underaged magic three years ago, did you not?"

"Yes, but-"

"And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?"

"Yes," said Harriet. "but-"

"Knowing that you are not permitted to use magic outside of your institution of learning while under the age of seventeen?"

"Yes, but-"

"Fully aware that you were in a muggle populated area?"

"YES, but I only used it because we were-"

"A fully fledged patronus? That's a highly advanced bit of magic," commented Madam Bones, looking at Harriet now with something other than harsh criticism. "Tell me, child, what form does your patronus take?"

"A stag," Harriet felt breathless now; were they ever going to let her explain herself? "Professor Lupin taught me in third year because of the-"

"And at such a young age, too. That's very impressive."

"Advanced magic in the plain view of a muggle," Fudge spat, effectively killing off any positive thought about her that may have entered the room. "I'd say that's a far bit more than impressive, Amelia, that's dangerous."

"I only did it because of the dementors!" Harriet shouted. "I was protecting myself!"

"Dementors? That's preposterous, there are no dementors in muggle suburbs! That's quite the cover you've thought up for yourself, Ms. Potter. Muggles can't see dementors, can they? Very convenient for you. Only your word then, no witnesses?"

"I'M NOT LYING! Why else would I use a patronus? There were two of them, and one of them went after my cousin - the muggle -, I had to save him, they were going to kiss him! I-"

"ENOUGH." Fudge looked ready to set a dementor on her right where she sat. "I do so hate to interrupt your wonderful performance, which was very well rehearsed indeed, but I'm afraid if you have no witnesses..."

Harriet began to shake. No witnesses. She was really going to be sick this time. Why hadn't anyone prepared her for that? She'd been protecting herself, doing the job others had neglected to do, and they... they were going to...

"Pardon me, Cornelius, but I am afraid someone did witness the attack. If you'll excuse me. Mrs. Figg! Yes, yes, come in please."

Harriet's head was still swimming when the old woman scooted into the room in her fuzzy carpet slippers. Dumbledore had brought a witness - the witness! Hope instantly swelled in her again. Mrs. Figg had been there that night to see it all, screaming to the high heavens about Mundungus' lack of vigilance. Surely she could help them change their minds about what happened that night, even if she was a squib!

"Can you lot see dementors?" asked a balding man from one of the higher benches, skeptical of the Mrs. Figg already. Obviously he thought she'd been fed lies for them or bribed to the stand, but Harriet knew better than anyone that Mrs. Figg would not have budged from her home if it meant she'd have to tell a lie.

"Yes, we can! They're black, in cloaks, and bring out the worst in people," Her usually wavering tones had so much strength in them that Harriet hardly recognized her. "This girl is telling the truth, which is more than I can say for some people. Two dementors attacked her and that horrible muggle cousin of hers and they just about killed them. Perhaps you should worry more about where your guards are going than picking on an innocent girl!"

"HARDLY INNOCENT." Fudge roared, astounded by the mere suggestion of Harriet being such a thing. He pounded his fist. "As far as I'm concerned, this woman could not see a dementor if one were a centimeter from her face! There is no evidence that they were there!"

"If there were though, perhaps it would not be a coincidence," Dumbledore cut in. "That the dementors were in Little Whinging that night."

"Are you suggesting the Ministry attacked this girl?" Fudge asked with a pained laugh, using his hand to gesture wildly that Percy show Mrs. Figg the way out.

"Don't touch me." Mrs. Figg hissed at Percy, her heels clicking loudly as she shuffled back out of the courtroom. Harriet turned in the chair and caught the sudden look of remorse on her babysitter's withered face before the door slammed shut.

"Not at all," Dumbledore answered coolly, as if what had happened to Mrs. Figg had not actually happened at all. "In fact, I have all confidence in the Ministry. I do expect there will be a full investigation into these claims?"

"It is not for you to decide what the Ministry does or does not do!" he yelled, his full cheeks inflamed with indignation.

"Of course not. Just as it is not yours to decide whether or not Harriet is expelled from my school."

"No," Fudge agreed readily, his fat chin still quivering with rage. "But we can assure that Harriet never touches a wand again. I will say it for you once more, Dumbledore, in case your hearing has gone bad as well as your mind. There. Are. No. Dementors. Outside of the Ministry's control. This was all obviously made up, so I say we put this to a vote now and get back to work. Yes?"

Harriet froze. She felt that her heart had plummeted down to the pit of her stomach. They were going to do it, weren't they? They were going to take it all away from her, over this... over protecting Dudley, protecting herself... it wasn't even her fault, really...

"All in favor?"

Her eyes stung and she fought not to show it. Hands flew up and she couldn't- she couldn't count how many. One, three, seven, fifteen at least...

No, the hearing should have lasted longer. She'd not said very much at all, no one had said very much, and she was certain she'd not made any kind of good impression like Mrs. Weasley told her to... twenty... twenty five...

If they only gave her one more chance to explain herself, to remind them of how horrible the dementors were and how close they were to kissing Dudley, they'd have to change their minds. She was defending herself, wasn't that allowed?! Everyone had said it was! Everyone had said they'd had no case and not to worry!

Everyone had said that her luck couldn't possibly run out.

"I'm so sorry, Harry." Dumbledore whispered to her from somewhere behind her head, taking a hand to her shoulder and pulled her up by her shirt. She couldn't stand on her own and he knew it. In her heart, she felt she'd already known the verdict, but... she'd never imagined...

"Let the motion pass," Fudge slammed his gavel down and the sound of it felt like she'd been shot. "Let it be known that Harriet Lily Potter is no longer permitted to possess a wand. If she is detected doing so for any reason at all, a lifetimes sentence in Azkaban will follow. You may hand over your wand to the Ministry now, Harriet. I am deeply sorry that it turned out like this, but you must understand. We cannot excuse you of being so irresponsible simply because you used to be a bit of a celebrity."

It was as good as if he'd slapped her. Celebrity had nothing to do with it, she didn't want this. She didn't ask for any of this! They were taking away the only thing that could protect her from Voldemort. It was the death penalty, a public execution. She was as good as dead.

Surely Dumbledore had some sort of plan, why wasn't he saying anything?!

Before Harriet could reach for it herself - to take it and run -, Dumbledore's hand plucked her wand from her back pocket. She watched in a trance as his arm moved forward toward Fudge. No, no she didn't want to give it up...

"Like I said, Harriet." Her heart stopped. "I am... deeply... sorry."

Crack.

Without looking at her, Dumbledore turned and swept from the room. She was so close to falling without his support, but evidently he didn't care. Fudge's apology buzzed ruthlessly in her ears.

The Wizengamot all got to their feet, talking amongst themselves and gathering their things. It was all in a days work for them. But Harriet was stranded, left to bleed out and die like a wounded animal. They all filed out in a blur of robes and satisfied faces.

...She had to leave.

Harriet steeled herself. Moving mechanically, she swung open the courtroom door where the cold air hit her face like a brash realization of reality and the lights dimmed to near darkness. She felt blinded by the tears she'd trapped in her eyes. Taking only one step forward, she slammed directly into Mr. Weasley. He looked pale, but upon seeing her he turned green.

"Dumbledore didn't say..."

"They did it." The words were torn from her throat. She couldn't keep control over her emotions like this; she didn't want to talk about it. "Can you take me back now? Please?"

"Oh love, I'm so sorry. None of us-"

She was sorry too. But she didn't think she could stand being in the same building with the people who took everything away from her a second longer. She marched past him, hardly keeping it together but determined to do so for as long as she could anyway. "Take. Me. Back. Please."

"R-right," Mr. Weasley stammered in her wake. "I have that toilet in Bethnal Green to deal with so we can leave now. If you like. This way."

Mr. Weasley called the lift for them, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Harriet wiped her cheek on her sleeve, staring at the door at the opposite end of the hall instead. Department of Mysteries read the dusty plaque nailed to it, the tarnished silver gleaming in the torchlight.

Department of Mysteries, Department of Mysteries, Department of Mysteries - Mr. Weasley took her by the arm and the lift closed behind them.

The sound of her wand snapping in half played over and over in her mind. She could still see it, splintered and broken, and she was quite certain she'd never stop seeing it. She'd never do magic again, she'd never see Hogwarts again...

Maybe she could be like Hagrid and be allowed to stay on the grounds. The thought wasn't as comforting as it ought to have been.

The doors to the lift shook open and Mr. Weasley ushered her out. He took her by the arm again, hand secured around her elbow, and he kept his head down. Steering her in another direction, he said so low that only she could hear, "This way, Harriet. This way."

Harriet's head whipped around to where he was pulling her away from, not wanting to miss a thing anymore - not a single thing. In the middle of all the Ministry workers rushing about to get to their offices was Lucius Malfoy, talking in earnest to Fudge beside the fountain.

Her blood ran cold.

She remembered that night in the graveyard so vividly. She'd been seeing it every night in her dreams since. It was Pettigrew cutting through her arm and feeding her blood to that, that abomination. It was Lucius Malfoy's eyes, silver and full of hate, peering through the slits in his mask. It was his voice shouting the killing curse at her, Cedric limp in her arms.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!" Harriet shouted into the piercing quiet of the offices. Mr. Weasley failed to drag her away in time. Everyone was giving them looks, but all she could see was red. All she could see was Cedric. "YOU CAN FOOL EVERYONE ELSE, BUT YOU CAN'T FOOL ME. I WAS THERE."

Mr. Weasley's grip on her shoulders was starting to hurt. His fingers dug into her skin. He was no longer being gentle about it - they needed to go. Now. But Harriet couldn't help her cries any longer, tears streaming down her cheeks as the two men turned away from her as if she were nothing to them but an embarrassing display. "I know what you are... I was there."