Harry Potter and the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts

begun 28-12-06 completed: n/a

SUMMARY: Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts ended with the resurrection of an old evil. His fifth will see him tested beyond all measure ...

WARNINGS: Angst, AU, Drama, Romance

FEATURED PAIRINGS: Ginny/Michael, Ginny/Dean

SPOILERS: All seven books in the series

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and its characters are the property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author.

ONE: Mrs Figg is Kissed

Monday, August 2nd 1995

[continues from "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix" page 22 (UK hardback edition)

He had run barely a dozen steps when he reached them: Dudley was curled up on the ground, his arms clamped over his face. A second Dementor was crouching low over him, gripping his wrists in its slimy hands, prising them slowly, almost lovingly apart, lowering its hooded head towards Dudley's face as though about to kiss him.

"GET IT!" Harry bellowed, and with a rushing, roaring sound, the silver stag he had conjured came galloping past him. The Dementor's eyeless face was barely an inch from Dudley's when the silver antlers caught it; the thing was thrown up into the air and, like its fellow, it soared away and was absorbed into the darkness; the stag cantered to the end of the alleyway and dissolved into silver mist.

Yet the darkness remained, as did the disturbing silence that seemed to envelop the street. Harry could not believe what was happening. Dementors here, in Little Whinging.

Dudley lay curled up on the ground, whimpering and shaking. Harry bent down to see whether he was in a fit state to stand up, but then he heard loud, running footsteps behind him. Instinctively raising his wand again, he span on his heel to face the newcomer. The cold grip of the Dementors had yet to fade and Harry was weary of another attack.

Mrs Figg, their batty old neighbour, came panting into sight. Her grizzled grey hair was escaping from its hairnet, a clanking string shopping bag was swinging from her wrist and her feet were halfway out of her tartan carpet slippers. Harry made to stow his wand hurriedly out of sight, but was thrown onto his back as he dodged another Dementor that suddenly swooped out of the still encroaching darkness.

His wand fell away from his fingers as the impact of his body hitting the ground rattled through him. As he sat up to look for the wand he heard a piercing scream and turned to watch in horror as the Dementor clamped its bony hands around the old woman's head and bent down to kiss her. Harry was frozen in panic and fear, unable to drag his eyes away from the horror he was witnessing till his fingers made contact with the reassuring length of his wand. For the second successful time that night Harry summoned some semblance of a happy thought and cried out into the still night, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Once more 'Prongs', Harry's patronus, leapt from the tip of the boy's wand and belted head first into the wispy, wraithlike form of the Dementor, sending the foul creature fleeing into the shadows it had come from. Once it was gone the sky overhead was like a cloth pulled back at a magic show, the Moon and stars scattered across the sk again; the street lamps bursting back into life. A warm breeze swept the alleyway, stirring almost listlessly at the fallen body of Mrs Figg. Trees rustled in neighbouring gardens and the mundane rumble of cars in Magnolia Crescent filled the air again.

Harry lay quite still, all his sense vibrating, taking in the abrupt return to normality. He turned his face away from that of his now dead neighbour, not willing to look any longer on the terror filled visage of the old woman. Instead he focussed on other things, becoming aware that his T-shirt was sticking to him; he was drenched in sweat.

Eventually Harry was stirred into action, gingerly picking himself up off the ground and looking over to his cousin. Dudley remained on the ground, trembling and ashen-faced, his mouth shut very tight. Moving to the living one of the two people lying prone on the ground Harry took hold of Dudley's arm and heaved. With an enormous effort he managed to hoist him to his feet. Dudley seemed to be on the point of fainting. His small eyes were rolling in their sockets and sweat was beading his face; the moment Harry let go of him he swayed dangerously.

Harry pulled one of Dudley's massive arms around his own shoulders and dragged him towards the road, sagging slightly under the weight. Harry kept his wand out in case the Dementors came back for another strike as the pair staggered into Wisteria Walk. It was not easy to hold a wand steady and haul Dudley along at the same time. Harry would have given his cousin an impatient dig in the ribs had he not been still trying to process the fact that his sometime baby-sitter Mrs Figg was lying dead somewhere behind them on Magnolia Crescent.

For a long time Harry just walked with his cousin's shallow breathing in his ear, unable to keep from dwelling on the fact that, just as with Cedric during the final task of the Tri Wizard tournament in June, someone connected to him had died. Swallowing deeply, desperate to focus on anything else other than death, Harry readjusted Dudley on his shoulder and made his slow, painful way up number four's garden path.

The hall light was on. Harry stuck his wand back inside the waistband of his jeans, rang the bell and watched Aunt Petunia's outline grow larger and larger, oddly distorted by the rippling glass in the front door.

"Diddy! About time too, I was getting quite - quite - Diddy, what's the matter?"

Harry looked sideways at Dudley and ducked out from under his arm just in time. Dudley swayed on the spot for a moment, his face pale green ... then he opened his mouth and vomited all over the doormat.

"DIDDY! Diddy, what's the matter with you? Vernon? VERNON!"

The man in question came thumping into the hallway, moustache all aquiver. He helped his wife get their portly son into the house.

"He's ill, Vernon!"

"What is it, son? What's happened? Did Mrs Polkiss give you something foreign for tea?"

Harry rolled his eyes, sure in the knowledge that his relations had their attention fixed upon their child and not on himself.

"Why are you all covered in dirt, darling? Have you been lying on the ground?"

"Hang on - you haven't been mugged, have you, son?"

The only female there let out a shrill scream in response to Vernon's supposition.

"Phone the police, Vernon! Phone the police!" Petunia's voice was starting to get on Harry's already raw nerves. "Diddy, darling, speak to Mummy! What did they do to you?"

Whilst this drama was taking place in the hall, Harry decided it was best to sneak in before his Uncle closed the front door and left him on the stoop all night. As the three Dursleys moved towards the kitchen, Harry headed for the stairs and the sanctuary of his room.

"Who did it son? Give us names. We'll get them, don't worry."

"Shh! He's trying to say something, Vernon! What is it, Diddy? Tell Mummy!"

Dudley's voice cut across the silence and caused Harry to grind to a halt, a foot frozen in place on the first step of the stairs. "Him."

'BOY!' Vernon was all noise. 'COME HERE!'

The Boy-Who-Lived returned to face the Dursleys in the kitchen. Vernon was all intent to maim. "What have you done to my son?"

"Nothing," tried Harry, not really expecting his Uncle to believe him.

Petunia turned to the other potential source of information about what had taken place, removing vomit from Dudley's clothes as she asked him, "What did he do you to you, Diddy? Was it — was it you-know-what, darling? Did he use — his thing?"

Dudley nodded, which Harry knew was more than enough to condemn him in the eyes of his relatives. He tried to protest anyway, "I didn't! I didn't do anything to him, it wasn't me, it was —"

Petunia wasn't listening, having broken into a wail and Vernon looked ready to pop Harry one with his raised fists. His Uncle however was stopped by the arrival of an owl which swooped into the kitchen, dropped a letter at Harry's feet, and then exited in the same manner. Vernon cursed the animal in it's wake, sliding the kitchen window shut with an almighty slam. Harry meanwhile had taken to opening and reading the important looking missive.

Dear Mr Potter

We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past nine, and again at twenty-five minutes past nine, this evening in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle.

The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand.

As you have already received an official warning for a previous offence under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 a.m. on the twelfth of August.

Hoping you are well,

Yours sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Improper Use of Magic Office

Ministry of Magic

Harry had only just started reading the letter for a second time when he found it ripped from his hands and dashed ot the floor by Vernon who proceeded to land a punch on Harry's left shoulder. He staggered back under the blow, barely catching his Uncle's words. "Attack Dudley will you? Going to kill him like you did Mrs Figg? Knew we should have smothered you when we found you on the doorstep."

With his Uncle winding up to inflict more damage, Harry knew he had only one course of action and that was to flee. Especially if people were coming to destroy his wand. Vernon pursued him out of the kitchen and into the hallway, Harry able to open the front door and run out onto Privet Lane before his Uncle cornered him. The pair had ignored the sharp cracking sound from the kitchen and Petunia's startled cry. Wand out, Harry run down the lane, narrowly avoiding being hit in the head by a garden gnome which his Uncle had thrown after him. As he ran he could hear Vernon yelling at him to never bother coming back.

Harry exploded onto Magnolia Crescent, wand in his right hand, which was held in an almost James Bond-like pose in order to cradle his badly smarting left arm that Uncle Vernon had inflicted his own brand of behaviour management upon. His breathing laboured, Harry paused in the middle of the empty street in a vain attempt to sort some order from the current chaos of his life.

He cursed his earlier need to know what was going on and to be in the thick of things. Thanks to that burning desire he had been thrown into just such a situation which had resulted in him being run out of his principle source of shelter and was now also expelled from Hogwarts. In other words he no longer had a place in the magical world and he was bereft of any means of support in the muggle one. As he weighed his options Harry figured at worst he could stay with Sirius, where ever his Godfather was hiding right now, and live off his inherited fortune. At best he would have to find an alternative means of obtaining a magical education. Beauxbatons or Durmstrang perhaps?

His future after expulsion however wasn't at the top of Harry's list of immediate concerns, nor was the injured arm he was currently sporting. It was the fact that he had failed to scare off the Dementor that had killed Mrs Figg and that the stars had fled from Magnolia Crescent. That same sad, dark feeling that Harry had associated with the presence of Dementors, ever since his encounter with them on the Hogwarts Express at the start of his third year, was creeping back into his bones. His grip on his wand tightened instinctively in preparation for the third attack of the evening.

As the street lamps guttered under the influence of the approaching Dementor, Harry again searched for a happy memory with which to combat the Dementor's aura. Left arm throbbing with pain Harry raised his right, wand pointed out into the growing darkness. This was the third attack and the only common element in each was Harry himself, which told Harry one important thing. That he was the target of these attacks. Had Voldemort finally decided to openly attack after a summer of no news?

At first Harry was caught off guard as the Dementor finally swept at him from the far left of his peripheral vision, swimming out of the swampy blackness that Magnolia Crescent had become. As he span, pivoting on his heels, Harry briefly wondered how many times this night he might have ot defend himself from a Dementor attack. With the entire damned creature in view Harry stabbed his wand in its direction and once again bellowed the incantation to the Patronus Charm.

The silver stag leapt forth from the tip of the upraised wand and began pushing the creature away from Harry. When the Dementor finally realised that trying to obtain its prey was fruitless, it regretfully turned and melted back into the unnatural darkness that it had spawned. Almost as quickly the stars sprung back into view above Harry's head and the street lights surged back into life, showering the crescent in artificial light once more.

Harry sagged in relief at the Dementor's departure, the adrenaline high that had begun back in the Dursley's kitchen with his expulsion fading into nothing. He cradled his injured arm once more and slowly turned to the curb in order to signal for the Knight Bus. At that same moment however there was a series of cracking sounds, and looking up Harry found himself facing the business end of several wands. Ministry aurors had arrived on the scene at last.

Unfortunately for Harry, it became immediately obvious that his protection was not what they were there for when one of them sharply ordered him to drop his wand. He may have faced a resurrected Voldemort and his Death Eaters back in June, but Harry didn't feel confident enough in his abilities to be able to take down six aurors in his current condition. Plus doing so would serve only to put him further offside with the Ministry of Magic which had decided to expel him from Hogwarts. They could easily go one step further and have him condemned to Azkaban.

Gingerly Harry gently lowered himself enough so that he could place his wand on the ground, keeping his eyes fixed on the watching aurors. As the piece of fashioned holly left his fingers he heard one of the aurors cry out 'Stupefy' and felt himself being flung backwards away from his wand. There was a moment of terrible pain as he came crashing down on his injured arm, before darkness overtook him and Harry surrendered to the siren call of unconsciousness.