Tom Riddle could not control his glee, laughing as he stood over the corpse of the foolish mud-blood who had dared stand in his way.

Now nothing stood between him and laying this foolish prophecy to rest.

"So here is the chosen one, in all of his glory, with the power to defeat me!." He cackled at the babe laying helplessly in the crib.

"Very well, chosen one, let us duel!." He said as he gave a very formal bow, then crouched into a dueling stance.

"I will even give you ten seconds to attack before I retaliate." He leered.

That was when he heard another sound.

Clip clop, clip clop, echoing up the stairway from outside of the Potter shack.

Tom turned and slowly walked back into the hallway towards the stairs, his wand pointed at the hole in the wall where the door had been before he arrived.

The sound of the horse stopped, and Tom heard the beast snort, followed by the faint creaking of leather and clanking of metal.

The clanking metal continued, accompanied by heavy footsteps. A tall figure appeared framed in the former doorway, and Tom wasted no time.
"Avada Kedavra!" He snapped, sending a sickly green curse at the figure, only to stare with a mix of awe and dread as the figure simply reached up to snatch the spell out of the air.

The handful of light illuminated an old man, dressed in plate armor with white hair and a bushy beard reaching down to his chest.

Tom felt as if he recognized the man from somewhere, but he could not remember where.

The man looked at the light in his hand for a moment and then fixed Tom with a stare from his black eyes.

The moment seemed to stretch into an eternity and Tom was sure he could see specks of light swirling behind those eyes.

Finally, the old man spoke.

"Foolish mortal, We cannot be killed." He said as he started walking into the broken home."We are death."

Tom squinted in disbelief, finally realizing where he had seen the old man before, he looked different in carvings, and none showed him wearing armor.

"Xolotl" He hissed in recognition.

"We are." The old man said with a slight incline of his head. "However in these lands We are known as Perkons."

"You cannot take me, old one!" Tom said with defiance in his voice. "I am immortal, death cannot touch me."

Perkons fixed Tom with another hard stare, before clapping his hands together, shattering the spell.

"Mortal, you are torn, broken and corrupt, but you are mortal still." He said flatly as he strode up the stairs, coming to stop beside Tom.

Tom laughed. "I have bound myself to this world, I cannot die!" He sneered.

"Indeed, you have defiled the gift you were given, and caged yourself like a rabid dog." Perkons said with a derisive snort. "Mortal, death is not a curse, but a gift. The children of Prometheus knew this in their youth, but it seems arrogance and fear has made them forget."

"Death is weakness!" Tom cried.

"Death is freedom." Perkons retorted.

"Say what you will old one, you cannot take me!" Tom said, sounding as if he were trying to convince himself as much as Perkons.

"Fool, We are not here for you." Perkons said, giving Tom a look of disdain.

Tom stared at Perkons with disbelief, than laughed with renewed glee.

"Very well, you may take the Potter boy when I am done with him!"

Tom said as he turned to enter the boy's nursery, only to have his stomach feel as if it turned to lead as Perkons voice reached his ears.

"We shall not allow the deed which you seek to complete."

"What do you care?" Tom said nervously. "You are death."

Perkons drew himself to his full height and glared at Tom.

Tom reeled as if struck by a physical blow.

"We are indeed death and war, but We are also lightning, life, ingenuity and justice." Perkons' last word seemed to reverberate through the world like a gong and it hurt Tom, the pain pushing his stumble into a fall.

"You cannot break me!" Tom shrieked as he writhed on the ground in agony, feeling like he was bathing in fire, and staring into a brilliant sun.

"Take your lightning orb and do your worst, you will not win."

Perkons raised his eyebrow. "Our lightning orb is for difficult battles, for curs - who are unwilling to yield even when defeated - We have this." He said, drawing what appeared to be an old flintlock pistol.

"A bloody muggle gu-" Tom's disbelief was cut off as a bolt of lightning shot out of the muzzle of the pistol and struck him in the face.

He was quickly reduced to a smoking pile of ash, leaving behind only a scorched cloak and his wand.

Perkons strode over the cloak and into the Nursery, coming to a stop next to the small boy in the crib.

The boy stared up at him with green eyes, and then giggled.

"Sweet child." Perkons smiled softly. "The others have many plans for you, and your life will be hard." He said.

"We cannot stop them outright, but We will help you as We are able."

He leaned over and kissed the boy on the forehead, and as he did a spark passed between them.

He stood back up and examined his mark on the boy with some satisfaction.

"Know then, Harry Potter, that when hope fades and all aid fails We will protect you and see justice done on those who persecute you."

Perkons then turned and strode from the house, not to be seen again by a living soul for many years.

Harry gasped; he could not help himself. The large dungeon he had entered was horribly familiar. He had not only seen it before, he had

been here before. This was the place he had visited inside Dumbledore's Pensieve, the place where he had watched the Lestranges sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban.

The walls were made of dark stone, dimly lit by torches. Empty benches rose on either side of him, but ahead, in the highest benches of all, were many shadowy figures. They had been talking in low voices, but as the heavy door swung closed behind Harry an ominous silence fell. A cold male voice rang across the courtroom.

'You're late.'

'Sorry,' said Harry nervously 'I — I didn't know the time had been

changed.'

That is not the Wizengamot's fault,' said the voice. 'An owl was sent

to you this morning. Take your seat.'

Harry dropped his gaze to the chair in the centre of the room, the

arms of which were covered in chains. He had seen those chains spring to life and bind whoever sat between them. His footsteps echoed loudly as he walked across the stone floor. When he sat gingerly on the edge of the chair the chains clinked threateningly, but did not bind him. Feeling rather sick, he looked up at the people seated at the bench above.

There were about fifty of them, all, as far as he could see, wearing

plum-coloured robes with an elaborately worked silver 'W on the left-hand side of the chest and all staring down their noses at him, some with very austere expressions, others looks of frank curiosity.

In the very middle of the front row sat Cornelius Fudge, the Minister

for Magic. Fudge was a portly man who often sported a lime-green

bowler hat, though today he had dispensed with it; he had dispensed,

too, with the indulgent smile he had once worn when he spoke to Harry. A broad, square-jawed witch with very short grey hair sat on Fudge's left; she wore a monocle and looked forbidding. On Fudge's right was another witch, but she was sitting so far back on the bench that her face was in shadow.

'Very well,' said Fudge. The accused being present - finally -let us

begin. Are you ready?' he called down the row.

'Yes, sir,' said an eager voice Harry knew. Ron's brother Percy was

sitting at the very end of the front bench. Harry looked at Percy, expecting some sign of recognition from him, but none came. Percy's

eyes, behind his horn-rimmed glasses, were fixed on his parchment, a quill poised in his hand.

'Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August,' said Fudge in a

ringing voice, and Percy began taking notes at once, 'into offences

committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging,

Surrey.

'Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia

Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement;

Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court

Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley.

The charges against the accused are as follows:

That he did knowingly, deliberately and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning

from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus

Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, on the second of August at twenty-three minutes past nine, which constitutes an offence under Paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy.

'You are Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little

Whinging, Surrey?' Fudge said, glaring at Harry over the top of his

parchment.

'Yes,' Harry said.

'You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal

magic three years ago, did you not?'

'Yes, but -'

'And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of

August?' said Fudge.

'Yes,' said Harry, 'but -'

'Knowing that you are not permitted to use magic outside school while you are under the age of seventeen?'

'Yes, but -'

'Knowing that you were in an area full of Muggles?'

'Yes, but -'

'Fully aware that you were in close proximity to a Muggle at the

time?'

'Yes,' said Harry angrily, 'but I only used it because we were -'

The witch with the monocle cut across him in a booming voice.

'You produced a fully-fledged Patronus?'

'Yes,' said Harry, 'because -'

'A corporeal Patronus?'

'A - what?' said Harry.

'Your Patronus had a clearly defined form? I mean to say, it was more than vapour or smoke?'

'Yes,' said Harry, feeling both impatient and slightly desperate,

'it's a stag, it's always a stag.'

'Always?' boomed Madam Bones. 'You have produced a Patronus before now?'

'Yes,' said Harry, 'I've been doing it for over a year.'

'And you are fifteen years old?'

'Yes, and -'

'You learned this at school?'

'Yes, Professor Lupin taught me in my third year, because of the -'

'Impressive,' said Madam Bones, staring down at him, 'a true Patronus at his age… very impressive indeed.'

Some of the wizards and witches around her were muttering again; a few nodded, but others were frowning and shaking their heads.

'It's not a question of how impressive the magic was,' said Fudge in a

testy voice, 'in fact, the more impressive the worse it is, I would have thought, given that the boy did it in plain view of a Muggle!'

Those who had been frowning now murmured in agreement, but it was the sight of Percy's sanctimonious little nod that goaded Harry into speech.

'I did it because of the Dementors!' he said loudly, before anyone

could interrupt him again.

He had expected more muttering, but the silence that fell seemed to be somehow denser than before.

'Dementors?' said Madam Bones after a moment, her thick eyebrows

rising until her monocle looked in danger of falling out. 'What do you mean, boy?'

'I mean there were two Dementors down that alleyway and they went for me and my cousin!'

'Ah,' said Fudge again, smirking unpleasantly as he looked around at

the Wizengamot, as though inviting them to share the joke. 'Yes. Yes,

I thought we'd be hearing something like this.'

'Dementors in Little Whinging?' Madam Bones said, in a tone of great

surprise. 'I don't understand -'

'Don't you, Amelia?' said Fudge, still smirking. 'Let me explain. He's

been thinking it through and decided Dementors would make a very nice little cover story, very nice indeed. Muggles can't see Dementors, can they, boy? Highly convenient, highly convenient… so it's just your word and no witnesses…'

'I'm not lying!' said Harry loudly, over another outbreak of muttering

from the court. There were two of them, coming from opposite ends of the alley, everything went dark and cold and my cousin felt them and ran for it -'

'Enough, enough!' said Fudge, with a very supercilious look on his

face. 'I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm sure would have been a very

well-rehearsed story -'

Harry Potter and the order of the pheonix, chapter Eight, with some editing.

Fudge was interrupted by the faint sound of shouting, and a steady thumping that got steadily louder.

"What's that racket?" He said in confusion.

An inexplicable feeling of peace swept over Harry as the thumping became identifiable as hoofbeats trotting down the corridor outside.

Fudge's question was soon answered as the heavy iron-bound oak door to the courtroom rang like a gong and then shattered like glass.

Mutters of dismay, disbelief and anger came from the Wizengamot as an old man in polished plate armor rode a golden brown horse into courtroom ten.

"I say, Who are you?" Fudge blustered indignantly. "And why are you here? Guards!"

"We are Perkons." The old man said as his horse drew even with Harry's seat. "We are here to defend our ward, and see justice done."

Percy Weasley scribbled furiously on a scrap of parchment for a moment, then tapped it with his wand which turned the note into a paper airplane and sent it flying from the room and down the corridor.
As he was doing this, Madam Bones frowned. "Justice is the prerogative of the wizengamot, and does not rest with any one individual!" She exclaimed sharply. "Who are you to interfere with the authority of this court?"

"Lady, We know you have a good heart, but you do not understand. We are Justice, We are Perkons."

As Perkons said this, a half dozen red robed aurors sprinted around the corner and into the courtroom.

"Aurors, arrest that man!" Fudge shouted, waving his hands at Perkons.

The Aurors waved their wands and cried "Incarcerous" followed by "Stupefy" in near perfect unison.

The red stunning curses seemed to have no effect on the old man, while the nets and ropes from the Incarcerous charm seemed to twist and writhe and wilt away from him like Devil's Snare caught in the sunlight.

"Cease this attack." Perkons said as another paper airplane glided over his head to land in front of Percy. "Your magic is ineffective against Us. Magic is life, We are life. We are Perkons."

Percy read it and paled quickly. "Minister-" he said fearfully.

"Now see here!" Fudge blustered, ignoring Percy completely. "This is the wizengamot, there is no higher authority than this council!"

"Minister-" Percy said again, his voice a little higher this time.

Perkons roared with laughter at Fudge's proclamation.

"This pit of fools knows nothing of justice!" He exclaimed. "You mock Us with your corruption."

"Minister!" Percy shrieked, his voice so high and loud that it cracked Madam Bones' monocle.

"What?" Fudge snapped, glaring at Percy.

"I think you should see this, sir." Percy said.

"Then read it, man!" Fudge exclaimed.

"But sir-" Percy started.

"Read it!" Fudge snapped.

"Yes sir." Percy said in defeat, he then took a deep breath and started to read.

"From: Percival Weasley

To: The Unspeakable on duty.

A man calling himself Perkons has broken into courtroom ten and interrupted a Wizengamot trial.

You must come render assistance.

Percy.

Reply:

Perkons is a god.

Good luck."

For a moment pure silence reigned in the room.

Some members of the Wizengamot looked terrified, some awed, and the rest just looked curious.

The silence was broken after a moment by Madam Bones coughing lightly.

"I see." She said slowly. "So you're that Perkons."

"Lady" He said almost gently. "There is no other. We are Perkons."

"Well, what do you want?" Fudge asked sharply.
"We are here to see justice done." Perkons responded with a slightly annoyed tone. "We have already said this."
"You interrupted justice!" Fudge exclaimed.

"You cannot lie to Us, Cornelius Oswald Fudge!" Perkons snapped, his voice booming through the room like thunder.

Fudge fliched as if he had been struck and fell from his seat.

Smaller objects in the room rattled, and paper flew around as if blown by an unfelt breeze while the large objects in the room groaned and shuddered as if under great strain.

"You are not here to enforce justice, but your own political gains through the unjust enforcement of foolish rules."
"We know as you do, that your trollop sent two of the demons that you call Dementors to kill the lad!" Perkons said, gesturing at undersecretary Umbridge.

"Now you seek to use the fact that he drove them away to see him in prison for the rest of his days. We will not allow it." Perkons said firmly.

A chill passed through the room and the rustle of cloth could be heard from the corridor, along with faint hissing and rattling breaths.

"We will see justice done." Perkons said as two dementors glided into the room.

"I say, you can't do this!" Fudge said, his voice so high it was nearly a squeak as he picked himself up from the floor.

"We can." Perkons said flatly. "We are Perkons."

The two Dementors swooped forward, one grabbing Fudge by the throat, the other grabbing the portly woman beside him.

They then lowered their hoods and stooped to kiss their victims.

"This is justice. Take note all of you. Show care with what you wish on the innocent and defenseless, for all men reap what they have sewn."

Perkons said, before turning to Madam Bones as the dementors raised their hoods and glided silently from the room.

"Sirius Black is innocent. Your persecution of him is annoying. Cease it." He said flatly.

Madam Bones paled and nodded.

"Any who took the mark of that cur We smote fourteen years ago did so willingly. To be worthy of it they had to murder a child of their own free will." He continued, his voice taking a hard tone.

"We shall deal with them if you do not, along with the corruption in this place." He said as he turned his horse to go.

"We shall return three days hence. We expect to see much improvement."

He rode to the doorway in silence, then turned again to address the room.

"Let it be known that Harry Potter is our ward. We will see to his discipline should it be required, just as we will defend him."

With that he rode away, and soon the sound of hooves faded to silence.
"Right then." Madam Bones said as she adjusted her cracked monocle. "All in favor of finding the accused not guilty?"

And that day, for the first time in nearly five centuries the Wizengamot came to a unanimous decision.