But before I could return to Hogwarts, I had to face my disciplinary hearing at the Ministry.
Harry was making me nervous; the look on his face was riddled with anxiety. Mr. Weasley escorted us to the Ministry, a place I had only been a few times before. I remembered those few instances when Dad had been called into the Quibbler offices on days when Mother was supposed to be presenting her findings at the Ministry as an on-site worker for the Department of Mysteries. On those awful occasions, I had been forced to accompany Mother.
We went to an entirely different part of the building today, however, to Mr. Weasley's dingy office in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts department. It was much nicer up here: the false windows provided light to the interior of the rooms rather than the shadowed corridors of the Department of Mysteries.
Harry and I strolled around the small department in silence, each of us lost in thought. After what Hermione had said, I shouldn't have felt so anxious about the hearing, but I couldn't help it; there was too much at stake.
I kept a straight face when Harry turned to me and spoke. "What happens if-?"
"It won't," I said, the lie slipping from my lips more easily than I expected as Mr. Weasley came bolting around the corner.
"Harry! Sam!" he cried out to us, looking terribly upset. Harry and I hurried over to him as he nearly ran to the lifts.
"They changed the time of the hearing! It started five minutes ago! They've moved it, too. It's down in the old courtrooms. The lifts don't even go down so far!" he said, breathing heavily.
I swore under my breath as the lift rattled downward. "Next to the Department of Mysteries?"
Mr. Weasley nodded. "Courtroom ten. You know the one?"
"Unfortunately, yes. But why would they put us-"
"No time to ask questions. You and Harry need to get there now. I can't join you. I'll meet you by the lifts afterward. Good luck!"
Mr. Weasley practically shoved us out of the lift on our floor. I grabbed Harry's hand and dashed down the stairs. The corridors were exactly as I remembered them, the dark marble seeming to shrink the area around us.
We skidded to a halt in front of courtroom ten, gasping, hands still clasped. I looked over at my cousin, my eyes blazing with adrenaline-fuelled determination.
"You ready?" I asked. Harry shook his head. "Tough." I dropped his hand and pushed the doors open.
Harry gasped beside me as we strode into the enormous courtroom. I didn't spare him a glance, however, as I stared up at none other than the Minister of Magic seated at the judge's box.
"You're late," the man said coldly. I felt a sudden urge to sneer up at him, my frustration building from his sudden decision to change the time and place of the hearing with no consideration for anyone else. Instead, I opted for a cool aloofness.
"Yeah," I said, striding forward and cutting off the expected, "Sorry," from my distant cousin.
There were two chained chairs in the centre of the courtroom, ones that I had heard stories about from my mother. She had threatened more than once to bring me in here and chain me to them if I bothered her one more time. Then, it had seemed a terrifying prospect, but no more. I sat down swiftly in one of the chairs, the chains clanking from the movement, but they did not bind me or Harry.
"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August into offences committed under the Degree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter and Samantha Kay Evans, both students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Fudge droned on, listing the interrogators and members of the court, and I found myself growing bored. I glanced around the courtroom, noticing for the first time how dungeon-like it was. It wasn't an uncomfortable space for me, although Harry was fidgeting relentlessly beside me, casting worried glances around the room. The whole of the Department of Mysteries had the exact same feel, and I had been inside enough times to know that rooms like these rarely held any surprises.
"The charges against the accused are as follows," Fudge said, his words finally getting through to me as worth my attention, "that Harry James Potter 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 August the second at twenty-three minutes past nine.
"For Samantha Kay Evans, that she did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of her actions, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle on the same night as Harry James Potter, and proceeded to cast a Healing enchantment on the Muggle present shortly after. Both of these accusations constitute an offence under paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under section thirteen of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy."
I let out a huff of air as Fudge's accusations came to an end. So many fancy words to say a whole lot of nothing, I thought.
"You are Harry James Potter, of number four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?" Fudge asked, glaring at Harry.
"Yes," Harry said.
"And you are Samantha Kay Evans of number two-two-one-B—"
"Yes," I interrupted. Fudge's eyebrows rose.
"Mr. Potter, you received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?"
I glanced at Harry, surprised as the boy answered in the affirmative.
"And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?" said Fudge.
"Yes," Harry said, clearly wanting to say more, "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—"
The back and forth continued, and I found myself growing increasingly agitated with Fudge's methods.
"You produced a corporeal Patronus?" one witch interjected. Madame Bones, one of the interrogators.
"A—what?" Harry stammered.
"Yes," I interjected, my patience reaching its limit. "We both did, because of the dementors!"
Silence fell at my words.
"We weren't doing it for a laugh; we were too busy saving our lives and the life of the Muggle who was with us!" I continued, taking advantage of the noiseless crowd.
"Dementors in Little Whinging?" Madame Bones asked, clearly surprised. "I don't understand—"
"Don't you, Amelia?" said Fudge, smirking. Don't you think it's convenient that Muggles can't seem dementors? These two thought it would be the perfect cover story. No witnesses."
"We're telling the truth!" Harry shouted as the courtroom broke out into loud muttering.
Fudge sneered unkindly, and spoke in a patronising voice that made me want to hurl something at him.
"Very well, Mr. Potter. Why don't you both shut your eyes for me then, and on my mark, you each show me how many dementors attacked you using your fingers?"
"Or how about we use common sense and verify that there weren't indeed any witnesses?" I countered.
"Excuse me?" Fudge said, clearly taken aback.
I sat up straight in my chair, fully prepared to argue this man back to where he came from, fancy title or no. My parents had never been very fond of this minister anyway.
"A woman named Mrs. Figg was present on the night of August the second. She is a Squib, and thus you would not find her registered in Ministry records. Squibs have the ability to see dementors, and would be able to verify our story. She could tell you how we were attacked by two dementors in that ally—" I raised two fingers pointedly in response to Fudge's earlier suggestion. "—that we fought them off and saved Dudley Dursley's life. And when that was over, I performed Healing magic on Dudley to ensure that he was still in good health."
Fudge looked like he had swallowed something unpleasant. "Weasley," he barked down his row to a boy with flaming red hair that I suddenly recognised as Percy Weasley. "Floo this Figg woman immediately and verify this ridiculous story." Percy scampered away. The courtroom broke out into murmurs yet again.
"You're amazing, Sam, but I think I'm going to be sick," Harry whispered.
I reached over and squeezed his hand briefly. "I'm not going down without a fight. For both our sakes.
"Thanks."
"Any time."
Percy hurried back into the courtroom, an envelope in hand. He tossed it up into the air, where it hovered and emitted the voice of Mrs. Figg for all the court to hear.
Mrs. Figg recounted the experience, including the horrible feeling the dementors exude. By the end of her official statement, the court was silent once again.
"But why on earth would there be dementors in Little Whinging?" Madame Bones asked.
"Excellent question," I said softly.
"What was that?" Fudge snapped.
"I said, excellent question, sir. Dementors are supposedly under Ministry control. And, assuming the Ministry didn't unleash a couple of dementors on two underage wizards, then who else could have influenced them to do so?"
The muttering commenced at my words, some court members looking rather indignant at my suggestion that the Ministry could have been involved in the incident.
"What are you suggestion, Miss Evans?" Fudge demanded.
I shrugged, but my eye contact with the Minister spoke the words I didn't say: that a certain Dark wizard was indeed back. "Either way, clause seven of the Decree states that magic may be used before Muggles in exceptional circumstances, and seeing as the lives of Harry, Dudley, and myself were at considerable risk, I'd say—"
"Enough! The court is familiar with clause seven, young lady."
"Then why are we still talking?"
The entire court went still, and Harry seemed to be doing his best impression of a statue.
"Mr. Potter," Fudge nearly exploded, clearly not wanting to speak to me anymore. "I'm sure you have an excellent story to share regarding the Hover charm you used three years ago?"
"That was a house-elf!"
"Ridiculous! These students are spouting nonsense!" Fudge roared.
"It's not nonsense!" Harry retorted. "His name was Dobby, and he now works at Hogwarts! You can ask him!"
"You also blew up your aunt!"
"An incident which you excused! Everyone loses control sometimes," Harry said, the end of his sentence dripping with insinuation as Fudge gesticulated in an attempt to think of something to say. I nearly laughed aloud, glad that Harry was joining me in the fight.
"What about what you get up to at school?"
"The Minsitry has no authority to punish Hogwarts students for misdemeanours at school," I snapped. "Nothing about our behaviour at Hogwarts is any of your business."
"None of our business, eh?"
"That's right. But of course you know that, seeing as you uphold the law."
"Laws can be changed."
"Clearly! Since when were full criminal trials held in order to deal with a simple matter of underage magic?" I said harshly.
The court shifted uncomfortably, and Fudge proceeded to show the court how many shades of red his face could turn.
Another witch spoke up, her flamingly pink robes and toad-like appearance nearly making me laugh aloud into the serious quietude of the courtroom.
"Are you by chance related to Cassandra Greyson?" she asked, her high-pitched voice a severe contrast to her appearance.
I stared up at her, frowning. "She's my mother."
"Ah," the witch said, and left it at that.
"Very well," Madame Bones interjected officially. "Those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?"
Over half of the court raised their hands.
"And those in favour of conviction?"
Fudge raised his hand, along with half a dozen others, including the witch in the pink. Noticing the discrepancy in numbers, Fudge choked out the words: "Cleared of all charges."
I wanted to dance. I wanted to sing. But the members of the court were still present, and so I opted for jumping to my feet and pulling my cousin from the courtroom.
"Harry! Sam!" came Mr. Weasley's voice. He hurried toward us looking positively faint. I couldn't hold back anymore: I burst out laughing. "I take it the hearing went well?"
The members of the court came spilling out of the courtroom and Mr. Weasley gawked.
"Was the whole of the Wizamagot in there?" he asked in disbelief.
"Pretty much," I said with a shrug, my mind filled with relief that I would be returning to Hogwarts as planned. I thought of Stewart and Luna, of Quidditch and The Four Houses, of the Ravenclaw common room and everything else that made Hogwarts home. Home.
We made our way over to the staircase, grins still etched on our faces, but were stopped short when an all-too-familiar voice rang through the corridor.
"Samantha!"
I froze. "Oh, Merlin's arse," I hissed, the smile dropping from my face immediately. I reluctantly turned to find no one else but Mother stomping our way. "Why did this have to take place in this department?"
"How dare you, you insolent child! Taking off to Merlin-knows-where with no warning! What were you thinking?"
The woman had taken hold of the front of my robes as she shrieked in my face. But before I could react, Mr. Weasley intervened.
"Excuse me!" Mr. Weasley bellowed, placing himself forcibly between us. Mother dropped her grip and stared up at the man. "Ma'am, I will not allow you to manhandle Miss Evans in such a manner."
"Miss Evans? That's my daughter, you idiot!"
Mr. Weasley's eyebrow rose as he glanced back at me. I nodded awkwardly, wanting to get away from the situation as quickly as possible. Harry was staring, his gaze swapping between me and my mother.
"Ah, well, Mrs. Evans, I'm sure you'll agree that such a display in public is hardly—"
"It's Ms. Greyson. My husband died nearly a year ago. And who exactly are you?"
"Arthur Weasley, one of many who are currently taking excellent care of your daughter. If you'll excuse us." Mr. Weasley grabbed my elbow and steered me toward the stairs.
"What exactly are you implying, Mr. Weasley?" Mother said scathingly, following us up the stairwell and over to the lifts.
Mr. Weasley hesitated, clearly not having expected this altercation to go so far. Mother's eyes lit up with savage victory at his pause.
"Nothing, Ms. Greyson, just that you might know more if you bothered to send an owl Sam's way every once in a while," Harry interjected, pushing me behind him and into the lift. Mr. Weasley followed suit, and the doors closed between us.
"And what would you know about—" Mother started to say, looking over at Harry for the first time. Her eyes widened with recognition, performing the familiar flip up to his scar.
"Because I'm her friend and I happen to give a damn," Harry hissed as the lift rattled upward and out of sight.
"Idiot girl!" Mother's voice trailed after us.
The silence stretched out as we travelled between the floors. Mr. Weasley coughed uncomfortably, polishing his glasses with his robes. Harry's jaw was clenched as he stared at the point where Mother's face had been moments before.
"You didn't have to do that," I said quietly after a time. "I'm used to it."
"I know. But that doesn't make it okay," Harry said, still staring at the lift doors.
"I'm sure she's a lovely woman when she's not upset," Mr. Weasley said kindly, clearly at a loss for what to say.
That did it. I burst out laughing again, the sound echoing loudly through the lift shaft. I fell against the wall, clutching my sides as I roared with hysterical laughter. Harry joined in, and all the tension that had been building in the days leading up to the hearing seemed to melt away.