The Trial
Harry smiled all the way to the wizengamot chambers. Harry smiled as the Aurors escorted him inside. Harry smiled as they confiscated his wand. Harry smiled as they sat him in a chair in the center of the room, facing the members of the wizengamot. Harry smiled as the chains attached to the chair snaked themselves around his arms and legs, biting painfully into his skin. Throughout it all, Harry smiled.
Until, that is, the Minister for Magic stepped onto the podium. The smile slid gracefully off his face as he beheld the man behind this little farce of a trial. His emerald eyes turned cold and emotionless as the man listed his charges. His lips set into a firm line as the Minister listed the consequences for his actions.
And when the Minister asked if he had anything to say in his defence, Harry spoke.
"I cite the Wizengamot gathering of 1605," Harry said simply, and watched as a hush came over the crowd of purebloods. The gathering stilled. The Minister, to his eternal credit, simply stared blankly at him, glancing to the left to look at his aide for assistance.
Harry sighed. "Minister, really. You should at least know the history of this illustrious body that you preside over," He felt a surge of triumph as the Minister's face reddened in indignation. "Allow me to enlighten you, if it pleases the Wizengamot.
"In 1605, the Wizengamot of the time passed a law. A law that has yet to be changed, in fact. This law, put quite simply, allowed the lords of Noble houses tutelage in arcane arts, so as to preserve the knowledge that would otherwise be lost should those arts become unlawful."
By this time, the members of the Wizengamot had begun to chat nervously asmongst themselves. A brief burst of legilimency enlightened him as to what they were worried about. Harry smiled.
"It seems to me, Minister, that the illustrious members of this body have seen fit to keep the contents of this moment in our history from the general public. Whatever shall I do?" Harry cracked a vicious grin, " I could, I suppose, keep this to myself. Or, I could go to the newpapers. Oh, they would have a field day with this, wouldn't they?" He stared up at the Minister for Magic. The man paled at the implications. He stared up at the Wizengamot. They were still, silent, nervous. "I can see the headlines now; Wizengamot Hides Prejudiced Law For Hundreds Of Years! Public Calls For Wizengamot To Be Dissolved! Old Law Favours PureBloods! Public Calls For Vote Of No Confidence!
"Gee, wouldn't that be fun? I'm thinking of going public with this, simply for the enjoyment of it!" Harry laughed uproariously at this.
"See, really, going by your own laws, I have done nothing wrong. I am the Lord of three seperate Noble houses. I am immune from persecution for practicing blood magic. You people seem to be under the impression that now that Albus has died, I am defenceless. Let me find a way to get this across to you," Harry stood, the chains that had been binding him disintegrated and fell to the floor as dust.
"I am far from defenceless. If you think differently, I invite you to challenge me to an honour duel. I'm sure that you can come up with some bullshit reason for what I have done to insult your honour," He gave a cheeky wink to the congregation, and apparated out with a 'pop'.
There was silence for a few minutes after Harry left.
Harry reappeared with another 'pop'. "Oh, and I almost forgot to say this; Next time you want to get me arrested, remember that I am one of you now." And he left again.
And all hell broke loose.
"Professor! Professor!" A much younger Harry panted as he ran to catch up with Albus, "Professor, where are we going?"
"I have told you many times, Harry, that you are to call me either 'Albus' or 'Master.' And I have also told you many times which one I prefer." Albus said, eyes twinkling madly.
"Yes Pro- I mean, yes Albus. But, Albus, where are we going?"
They were currently walking through a forest. Harry had no idea where they were, but he was sure that Albus-
"I have no idea, my boy," He said cheerfully.
Or not.
"I've found that the greatest magic is found when you have no idea what you're looking for," Harry's mentor smiled a lopsided grin as he stepped over a gigantic root protruding out of the earth.
It was the summer after Harry's First Year. His newfound master had apparated him to a small encampment somewhere very humid, immediately following the end of the year feast. There were trees everywhere, trees he had never seen before. And the trees were enormous! Harry had never seen so much green in his life.
"Focus, Harry." His mentor whispered. Harry snapped his attention back to the present, just in time to see a small fuzzy bird, about the size of the ring he could make with his thumb and forefinger, buzz right into his face.
On instict, his hand flashed upward and grabbed the animal. For a moment, nothing happened, and then it started biting.
"Ow, ow ow!" Harry yelled, his hand still clenched over the small animal inexplicably, "Albus! Help!"
"Hold still a moment, my boy." He said calmly, pointing his wand at his young charge's hand. "Immobulus!" The creature immediately stopped moving.
"That spell is the immobilizing curse. The incantation is the Immobulus. The wand motion is a tight swirl, followed by a five-centimeter horizontal slash toward the target," As he described it, he demonstrated slowly, "I expect you to master this before dinner."
Harry nodded and went to uncurl his hand from around the creature, but Albus stopped him.
"No, my boy. You'll be using your left hand for now. It is important that you learn to cast properly with both hands. Just for good measure," He pointed his wand at the boy's hand again, "Immobulus!" And Harry's hand became stiffened around the small animal.
"There. Now," Here, Albus conjured a small bird, "Immobilize this."
For the next few hours, Harry learned the spell. He practiced hard, not stopping when Albus suggested they take a break.
And he knew Albus was proud of him, when he didn't stop practicing to take a break. And he knew Albus was proud when he mastered the spell a few hours later.
Now Harry was a little older. He would have been in the second half of his Second Year, had he been a Hogwarts student.
And he had never been more scared in his life.
Albus and Harry had been travelling. They had been many paces in the year that they had been together, and now they were somewhere in Germany. Or, he admitted to himself nervously, that's where Harry thought they were. He could never be sure, because Albus would never tell him.
But Albus had left last night. And he had told him to stay put. But Harry was curious. Albus never left him alone without telling him where he was going.
Harry had been curious. And it almost cost him his life.
He had followed Albus deep into the woods, where it was darker than it naturally should have been, even for the time of night it was. The moon had stopped shining. The stars had gone out. It was dark. Harry was scared. But he pressed on, following Albus at a distance he knew the old wizard wouldn't notice, but close enough to keep his Master in his sight.
Eventually, Albus had reached an old, dilapidated house. A shack, really. He did not approach it, at first, though. He raised his hand and seemed to feel the air. And suddenly, the forest was awash with an angry red light. A shimmering dome had appeared surrounding the shack. Even he, with his admittedly small knowledge of magic, could feel the age of the ward-structure. And it didn't seem very friendly to Harry.
The former headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry tapped his wand against the dome, and it shattered like glass. Wards that had stood for centuries crumpled before the might of the old man.
And a man, far older than Harry, yet so much younger than the headmaster, emerged from the house, waving a wand in his gnarled right hand.
And then there was light.
Lights of more colours than Harry knew existed erupted from both mens' wands, clashing together in showers of sparks, like fireworks on Guy Fawkes' Day in London. Neither man said a word, and yet, somehow, he knew that words of power were drifting through the area on a ghostly wind. There, and yet, somehow, not there. Both very real and intangible.
Suddenly, both men ceased fire upon each other. For several minutes, both his master and the gnarled man simply stood there, staring at each other, wands pointed toward the earthen floor of the forest.
The trucks of the trees in the area surrounding them had been whittled away in flashes of whites and silvers, burnt into nothingness in flashes of reds and blues, or turned somehow lifeless in a burst of green light. The grass around them had been swept clean, thouroughly dead in the aftermath of their clash.
Both combatants, and their observer, knew who had won this fight. The gnarled man was covered with sweat, a testament to how hard he had fought rested in the fact that he had not sustained any injuries that Harry could see. But they all knew who had won.
Harry's master stood regally, wand at his side, looking as calm as he would had he been grading papers or critiquing Harry's wand movements. Neither his body, his robes, nor his tall wizard's hat has any damage, nor dirt or frayed edges.
The gnarled man bent down and set his wand on the earthen floor of the forest, and when he had risen to his full height once more, he closed his eyes and smiled.
There was a subtle movement by his master, and the man erupted into a shower of blood. It was clear that
Harry knew, as young as he was, that these were giants. Harry knew, as naïve as he was, that he was an ant. And he was scared.
And Harry had never been more excited in his life.
The next day, Harry opened the morning Daily Prophet to find, to his eternal amusement, and article bashing him for his use of students as examples in the Duelling class he taught on weekends at the Auror Academy. And so began the Ministry's attempts at setting the public against him.
He couldn't help it. He threw his head back and laughed. He laughed until tears were running freely down his face. He laughed until Madame Pomfrey had been called to check him over. Harry laughed.
And when he had finally finished laughing, he framed that amazing article above his mantle.
He was still finding it quite funny hours later, in his first class of the day. Fourth Year Charms.
A few of the students had been curious about the article, and he had laid their fears to rest.
He called those few students who were suspicious of him (most of whom, he noticed with some amusement, had parents on the Wizengamot council) to the front of the classroom. He winked at the students remaining in their seats while those he called on were maneuvering toward the front. They were confused. He sighed. They obviously hadn't read the article, so they wouldn't understand the joke, he supposed. He fixed this with an absentminded flick of his wand, and every student suddenly had a copy of the article.
"Now, students, after you've finished reading, I want you to direct your attention toward the front." He waited patiently for a minute or so, until the majority of the students were looking at him. "Now, the ministry seems to think that I have been abusing my station as a teacher to make examples out of people. Have I ever done that to any of you?"
All the students shook their heads.
"Didn't think so. Have I ever given you grades that you did not earn, based on who your parents are?"
Negatives, again.
"That's what I thought. Oh, and in case you were wondering, I placed mild Truth Charms on the article you just read. So I know that I really didn't.
"And why are you kids standing up here?" He stared at them for a few seconds, then gestured for them to sit down. "Stupid kids and not getting my jokes..." He grumbled.
"Alright! Now that we have that out of the way, lets learn some magic!" The students fumbled to grab their parchment and quills, and Harry smiled.
AN: ANOTHER CHAPTER. That's three in one day. God, I'm awesome. Look at that, an atheist using the word "God." Ironyyyyy.
Aaaanyway... Hope you guys like this chapter. I certainly had fun with it. I especially like the second little flashback.
REVIEW, AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK.