It was half-past five the next morning, when Hailey abruptly woke up. She lay there, staring at the ceiling and thinking of the disciplinary hearing, which made her even more nervous. She got out of bed and noticed that Mrs Weasley had laid out the pink shirt that Mandy had gotten Hailey for Christmas and dark blue skinny jeans at the foot of her bed. She got dressed and went to the mirror to examine herself. The mirror made a strange snickering sound, like it laughed at her.
"I didn't ask you for your opinion," snapped Hailey at the mirror, grabbed the grey hoodie, and walked out of the room. She stepped out onto the landing and closed the door.
She walked down the steps, past Kreacher's ancestors and into the kitchen to see Mr and Mrs Weasely, Sirius, Lupin, and Tonks sitting at the able, like they were waiting for her. All of them, except Mrs Weasley, were fully dressed. Mrs Weasely was wearing a quilted purple dressing gown and she left to her feet the moment Hailey walked in.
"Breakfast," Mrs Weasley said pulling out her wand and hurrying over to the fire.
"Morning, Hailey," yawned Tonks stuttering. She had blonde hair that was curly. "Sleep all right?"
"Yeah," said Hailey.
"I've been up all night," Tonks replied, yawning. "Come and sit down…" She pulled a chair out and knocked over the chair that was beside it.
"What do you want, Hailey?" called Mrs Weasely. "We have porridge, muffins, kippers, bacon and eggs, and toast."
"Just—just toast, thanks," said Hailey, still nervous over the hearing, and sat down, putting the grey jacket over the back of the chair.
Lupin looked at Hailey and then said to Tonks, "What were you saying about Scrimgeour?"
"Oh…yeah," said Tonks. "Well, we need to be a bit more careful, he's been asking Kingsley and me funny questions…"
Hailey felt slightly glad that she didn't have to join the conversation. Mrs Weasley placed a couple pieces of toast and marmalade in front of her. She tried to eat a piece of toast, but it seemed to dry. Mrs Weasley sat down next to Hailey and started fussing with the straps on her shirt and messing with her hair.
"…and I'll have to tell Dumbledore I can't do night duty tomorrow, I'm just too tired," finished Tonks, yawning hugely again.
"I'll cover for you," replied Mr Weasley. "I'm okay; I've got a report to finish anyway…"
Hailey looked at Mr Weasley to see that he was wearing pinstriped trousers and an old bomber jacket. He turned to look at Hailey and asked, "How are you feeling?" Hailey shrugged in response. "It'll all be over soon. In a few hours' time, you'll be cleared." Hailey nodded. "The hearing's on my floor, in Amelia Bones's office. She's Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and she's the one who'll be questioning you."
"Amelia Bones is okay, Hailey," said Tonks. "She's fair, she'll hear you out."
Hailey nodded still feeling unable to speak.
"Don't lose your temper," advised Sirius. "Be polite and stick to the facts."
Hailey nodded showing them that she had heard them.
"The law's on your side," added Lupin in a quiet tone. "Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations."
Something pulled on her hair and she turned her head to notice that Mrs Weasley was combing her hair with a wet comb. Mrs Weasley pressed hard on the top of Hailey's head. In a desperate tone, Mrs Weasley asked, "Doesn't it ever stay straight?"
"Yes, you have to do it very carefully," replied Hailey, somewhat sarcastically.
Mr Weasley looked at his watch and looked at Hailey. "I think we should go now. We'll be a bit early, but I think you'll be better off at the Ministry than hanging around here."
"Okay," said Hailey, dropping her toast and getting to her feet. She wiped her hands on a napkin and grabbed the jacket.
"You'll be all right, Hailey," said Tonks, patting her on the arm.
"Good luck," said Lupin with a small smile. "I'm sure it will be fine."
"And if it's not," said Sirius in a grim tone, "I'll see to Amelia Bones for you…"
Hailey gave them all a weak smile and Mrs Weasley hugged her, saying, "We've all got our fingers cross."
"Right," replied Hailey, "Well…see you later then." She followed Mr Weasley up the stairs and nearly jumped when she heard Sirius's mother grunt in her sleep behind the curtain. Mr Weasley unbolted the door and they stepped out into a cold grey dawn.
Hailey put the jacket on and tried imagining it as Michael giving her a good-luck hug.
"Do you walk to work?" asked Hailey as they started walking around the square.
"No, I usually Apparate," stated Mr Weasley, "but since you can't, I think it's best that we arrive in a thoroughly non-magical fashion…makes for a better impression, given what you're being disciplined for…" He kept his hand inside his jacket as they walked and Hailey was sure he was keeping a tight hold on his wand.
They walked down some run-down looking streets that seemed almost deserted and when they arrived at a sad looking underground station, there were early-morning commuters.
"Simply fabulous," Mr Weasley, looking ecstatically at the automatic ticket machines, "Wonderfully ingenious." He looked like he was having trouble containing his enthusiasm.
Hailey pointed at a sign that was above the ticket machines, "They're out of order."
"Well, yes, but even so…" Mr Weasley said smiling at the ticket machines fondly.
Hailey bought them tickets at a sleepy looking guard, since Mr Weasley wasn't good at using Muggle money.
It took five minutes for the underground train to show up, before boarding it. The train rattled them off towards the centre of London. Hailey watched and counted as Mr Weasley looked anxious as he kept checking and re-checking the Underground Map. She counted one hundred times Mr Weasley looked at the map.
"Four stops, Hailey…" Mr Weasely said. "Three stops left now…two stops to go, Hailey…" Mr Weasley pointing it out wasn't making her feel less nervous and anxious.
The train stopped at the heart of London and they were swept out in the sea of business suit wearing men and briefcase carrying women. They went up the escalator and through the ticket barrier. When the stile ate the ticket, Mr Weasley was delighted at it. They emerged onto a broad street lined with imposing-looking buildings and an already full traffic.
"Where are we?" asked Mr Weasley looking blank.
Hailey felt panicked, wondering if they got off at the wrong station, even through Mr Weasley's continuously looking at the map.
"Ah, yes…" Mr Weasley said at last, "This way." He led Hailey down a side road. "Sorry, but I've never came by train, and it all looks rather different from a Muggle perspective. As a matter of fact, I've never even used the visitors' entrance before."
They kept walking and Hailey looked back to see that the buildings looked smaller and less imposing. They reached a street that had shabby-looking offices, a pub, and an overflowing skip.
That's it? Hailey thought, looking around.
"Here we are," said Mr Weasley brightly, pointing an red telephone box. It was missing several panes of glass and had a background of a wall that was badly defaced. Mr Weasley opened the door on the telephone box, and said, "After you."
Hailey stepped inside and Mr Weasley stepped in beside her. Hailey was jammed against the telephone apparatus that hung in a crooked manner from the wall, as if a vandal hadtried ripping it off. Mr Weasley reached past Hailey for the receiver.
"I think it's out of order, too," Hailey said.
"No, no, I'm sure its fine," said Mr Weasely, holding the receiver above his head. He was squinting at the dial. "Let's see…six…" he dialed the number, "two…four…and another four…and another two…"
The dial whirred smoothly back into place and a female voice, from instead the telephone box, said, "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."
"Er…" started Mr Weasley, sounding uncertain, like he couldn't be sure if he should talk into the receiver. He held the mouthpiece to his ear, "Arthur Weasely, Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, here to escort Hailey Potter, who has been asked to attend a disciplinary hearing…"
"Thank you," said the female voice, "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."
There was a click and a rattle, and something slid out of the metal chute that returned coins came from. Hailey picked it up to see that it was a square silver badge that had: Hailey Potter, Disciplinary Hearing on it. She pinned it to the front of her shirt as the voice spoke: "Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."
The floor shuddered and Hailey realized that they were sinking slowly into the ground. She was a little unsettled at watching the pavement rise past the glass windows of the telephone box until the darkness closed over their heads. All she could hear was a dull grinding noise as the telephone box made its way down through the earth. After a minute, a chink of golden light illuminated her feet and it widened, rising up her body, until it hit her in face. She had to blink to keep her eyes from watering.
"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," said the woman's voice.
I'm going to get expelled and you wish me to have a pleasant day? Hailey thought bitterly.
The telephone box door opened and Mr Weasley stepped out followed by Hailey.
They were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hallway, which had a highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock blue ceiling had golden symbols that moved and clanging, like it was an enormous notice board. The walls on each side were paneled with shiny, dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds, a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft whoosh. On the right-hand side, in front of each fireplace, there was a short queue forming, waiting to leave.
There was a fountain halfway down the hall. In a circular pool, there was group of golden statues that was bigger than life-size. The tallest of them was a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointed straight up in the air. There was a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf that was surrounding the wizard. The centaur, goblin, and house-elf was looking up at the wizard and witch in an adoring way. Jets of water flew from the witch's and wizard's wands, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat, and each of the house-elf's ears. The tinkling of the falling water could barely be heard over the sound of the pops and crack of the Apparators and the clatter of footsteps of glum-looking witches and wizards, who walked over to a set of golden gates that was at the far end of the hall.
"This way," said Mr Weasely, leading Hailey over to the group that was weaving between the Ministry workers. Some of the workers carried piles of parchment, some had battered looking briefcases, and there were others who were reading the Daily Prophet as they walked.
They walked past the fountain and Hailey looked at it. There were silver Sickles and bronze Knuts at the bottom of the pool. There was a small smudged looking sign beside it that read:
All proceeds from the fountain of magical brethren will be given to St Mungo's Hopsital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
Hailey found herself desperately thinking, If I'm not expelled, I'm going to put ten Galleons in that fountain.
"Over here, Hailey," said Mr Weasley, and she stepped out of the sea of Ministry employees to where Mr Weasley was standing. There was a desk on the left where a sign said SECURITY hanging above it. There was a wizard wearing peacock-blue robes sitting at the desk. He looked up as they walked over and set his Daily Prophet down.
"I'm escorting a visitor," stated Mr Weasley, gesturing at Hailey.
"Step over here," said the wizard in a bored voice.
Hailey walked closer to the wizard, who held up a long golden rod. It looked think and flexible, like a car aerial. The wizard passed it up and down Hailey's front and back.
"Wand," grunted the wizard at Hailey putting down the golden rod and held out his wand.
Hailey produced her wand and the wizard dropped it on what looked to be a set of scales, but it had one dish on it. It vibrated and a strip of parchment sped out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore the parchment off and read the writing on it. "Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use four years. That correct?"
"Yes," said Hailey, feeling nervous.
"I keep this," said the wizard as he impaled the slip of parchment on a small brass spike. "You get this back," he added, handing the wand back to Hailey.
"Thank you," the teen said.
"Hang on…" started the wizard slowly. He looked from the silver visitor's badge that Hailey had pinned to her chest and to her forehead.
"Thank you, Eric," stated Mr Weasely firmly, and grabbed the lone girl's elbow, steering her away from the desk. He led her into the stream of witches and wizards that were walking through the golden gates.
Hailey was led through the gates into a smaller hallway, where at least twenty lifts stood behind the wrought golden grilles. The two jointed the crowd around on left. There was a big bearded wizard nearby, who was holding a large cardboard box that was emitting rasping noises.
"All right, Arthur?" asked the wizard, nodding at Mr Weasley.
"What do you got there, Bob?" asked Mr Weasley, looking at the box.
"We're not sure," said the wizard. "We thought it was bog-standard chicken until it started breathing fire. Looks like a serious breach of the Ban on Experimental Breeding to me."
There was a great jangling and clattering as a lift descended in front of them and the golden grille slid back. Hailey and Mr Weasley stepped into the lift with the rest of the crowd. Hailey found herself pushed against the back wall and noticed how several witches and wizards looked at her curiously. Hailey looked at her boots to avoid looking at anyone and played with her hair so they wouldn't see her scar and laugh at her or step away from her since the Daily Prophet tried to make her out to be an attention seeking madwoman.
The grilles slide shut with a loud crashing sound and the lift slowly moved upward, the chains rattling, while the same female voice from the telephone box said, "Level Seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, incorporating the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, Official Gobstones Club and Ludicrous Patents Office."
The lift doors opened and Hailey saw an untidy-looking corridor that had various lopsided posters of Quidditch teams tacked on the wall. One wizard, who was carrying an armful of broomsticks, dislodged himself with great difficulty and walked down the corridor. The doors close and the lift went upward again. The woman announced: "Level Six, Department of Magical Transportation, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparation Test Centre."
The lift doors opened and a group of five left the lift and several paper aeroplanes swooped into the lift. Hailey looked up at them as they flapped idly around her head. The were a pale violet colour and she could see MINISTRY OF MAGIC stamped on the edge of the wings.
"Just inter-department memos," Mr Weasley muttered to Hailey. "We used to use owls, but the mess was unbelievable…droppings all over the desks…"
Hailey nodded as they clattered upwards again as the memos flapped around the lamp that was swaying from the ceiling of the lift.
It was a little eerie being in there and hearing the jingling of the chains.
"Level Five, Department of International Magical Cooperation, incorporating the International Magical Trading Standards Body, the International Magical Office of Law and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats," announced the voice.
The doors opened and two memos flew out. A few more of the witches and wizards left and several more memos flew it, making the lamp flicker and flash overhead as the memos flew around it.
"Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau."
"'Scuse,'" said Bob carrying the fire-breathing chicken out of the lift, being followed by a little flock of memos. The doors clanged shut yet again.
"Level Three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee."
Everybody, except Mr Weasley, Hailey, and witch with a floor-length piece of parchment, was left on the lift. The remaining memos flew around the lamp as the lift continued upward.
"Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services," announced the voice.
"This is us, Hailey." said Mr Weasley and they followed the witch out of the lift out onto a corridor that was lined with doors. "My office is on the other side of the floor."
They walked past a window that had sunlight streaming through. Hailey frowned, "Mr Weasley, aren't we underground?"
"Yes, we are," said Mr Weasley. "Those are enchanted windows. Magical Maintenance will decide what weather we'll get every day. We once had two months of hurricanes the last time they wanted a pay raise…" After a few more minutes of walking, Mr Weasley said, "Just round here, Hailey."
They turned a corner and walked through two heavy oak doors. They walked in a cluttered open area that was divided into cubicles, which were buzzing with talk and laughter. Memos were flying around like miniature rockets. On the nearest cubicle a sign read: AUROR HEADQUARTERS.
Hailey looked in the doorways as they walked by. The Aurors had covered their cubicle walls with everything from pictures of wanted wizards and photographs of their family, to posters of their favourite Quidditch teams and articles from the Daily Prophet. There was a man, wearing scarlet robes, had a ponytail longer than Bill's, was sitting with his boots up on his desk. He was dictating a report to his quill. A little further along was a witch that had a patch over one eye, talking over the top of her cubicle wall to Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"Morning, Weasley," said Kingsley as they walked nearer. "I've been wanting a word with you, have you got a second?"
"Yes, if it really is a second," said Mr Weasley, "I'm in a hurry."
They were speaking as if they didn't know each other. Hailey figured it would be better to pretend to not know Kingsley either.
They followed Kingsley along the row and into the very last cubicle.
Blinking down at them from every direction was Sirius's face. There were newspaper cuttings and old photographs—even the one from Sirius being the best man at the Potters' wedding—papered to the walls. The only thing that didn't have Sirius's face was a map of the world that had glowing little red pins in it.
"Here," said Kingsley, shoving a sheaf of parchment in his hand. "I need as much information as possible on flying Muggle vehicles sighted in the last twelve months. We've received information that Black might still be using his old motorcycle."
Kingsley winked at Hailey and whispered something about a magazine to Mr Weasley. In a normal tone, Kingsley said, "And don't take too long, Weasely, the delay on that firelags report held our investigation up for a month."
"If you had read my report you would know that the term is 'firearms,'" replied Mr Weasley. "And I'm afraid you'll have to wait for information on motorcycles; we're extremely busy at the moment." He whispered, "If you can get away before seven, Molly's making meatballs."
Mr Weasley motioned for Hailey to follow and led her out of the cubicle, through a second set oak doors, into another passage, turned left, marched along another corridor, turned right into a dimly lit and a shabby looking corridor. They finally reached a dead end, where a door on the left was slightly open, revealing a broom cupboard. A door on the right had a tarnished brass plaque that had: MISUSE OF MUGGLE ARTIFACTS on it.
The dingy office seemed to be slightly smaller than the broom cupboard. Two desks were crammed inside it, and overflowing filing cabinets that lined the walls, barely giving room to move around. The little wall space that was left had posters of cars, one that had a dismantled engine, two illustration of postboxes that was probably cut of Muggle children's books, and a diagram showing how to wire a plug.
There was an overflowing in-tray on Mr Weasley's desk. On top of that was an old toast that was hiccoughing in an unhappy way and a pair of leather gloves that were twiddling their thumbs. There was a photograph of the Weasley family by the in-tray and Hailey noticed the Percy appeared to have walked out of it.
"We don't have a window," said Mr Weasley in an apologetic tone.
"It's okay," replied Hailey.
Mr Weasley took off the bomber jacket and placed it on the back of his chair. "They don't seem to think that we need one." He pointed at the chair in the desk next to his, "Have a seat, Hailey. It doesn't look as if Perkins is in yet."
Hailey squeezed herself into the chair that was behind Perkins's desk as Mr Weasley riffled through the sheaf of parchment that Kingsley had given him. He grinned as he took out a copy of a magazine entitled The Quibbler, "Ah, yes," He flicked through it. "Yes, he's right, I'm sure Sirius will find that very amusing—"
Hailey heard about The Quibbler, sort of. She heard that it was basically rubbish, but Colton and Luna read it.
"Oh dear, what's this now?" Mr Weasley asked as a memo flew in through the open door. It stopped on top of the hiccoughing toast. Mr Weasley unfolded it and read it aloud, "'Third regurgitating public toilet reported in Bethnal Green, kindly investigate immediately.' This is getting ridiculous…"
Hailey asked, "Regurgitating toilets?"
"Anti-Muggle pranksters," said Mr Weasley frowning. "We had two last week, one in Wimbledon, one in Elephant and Castle. Muggles are pulling the flush and instead of everything disappearing—well, you can imagine. The poor things keep calling in those—pumbles, I think they're called—you know the ones who mend pipes and things."
Hailey corrected, "Plumbers."
"Yes, that," said Mr Weasley, "Of course they're flummoxed. I only hope we can catch whoever's doing it."
"So, which Department fixes the toilets?" asked Hailey.
"It'll be Magical Law Enforcement Patrol—" Mr Weasley started and a stooped, timid-looking old wizard that had fluffy white hair entered the room. He was panting and Mr Weasley said, "Ah, Hailey, this is Perkins."
"Hi," Hailey said.
Perkins sounded desperate as he said, "Oh, Arthur! Thank goodness, I didn't know what to do for the best, whether to wait here for you or not. I've just sent an owl to your home but you've obviously missed it—an urgent message came ten minutes ago—"
"I know about the regurgitating toilet," said Mr Weasely.
"No, no, it's not the toilet, it's the Potter girl's hearing—they've changed the time and venue—it starts at eight o'clock now and it's down in old Courtroom Ten—"
"Down in old—but they told me—" Mr Weasley started, looking at his watch and yelped, "Merlin's beard—" He jumped from his chair, "Quick, Hailey, we should've been there five minutes ago!"
Mr Weasley left the office at a run, Hailey close on his heels.
Hailey wasn't sure why, but she had a feeling that it was Fudge's doing. He was so determined to make her look bad because he refused to believe that Voldemort behind, that it wouldn't be surprising that he would get her expelled.
They ran past the Auror cubicles, and stopped at the lifts. Mr Weasley repeatedly pressed the lift button, which took about a minute for it to appear. They got in and hurried inside. At every stop, Mr Weasley cursed furiously and pressed the number nine button.
Mr Weasley had explained to Hailey the courtrooms hadn't been used in years and couldn't figure out why and then muttered 'no'. A witch carrying a smoking goblet entered the lift and Mr Weasley didn't elaborate on it.
They stopped at the Atrium and a wizard walked in, talked to Mr Weasley, but Hailey didn't listen, as she was busy seething at Fudge for trying to get her expelled.
They ended up on the Department of Mysteries floor and they hurried out of the lift and down a corridor. Hailey didn't focus on the walls as they ran down the corridor and Mr Weasely had to drag her to the left and down a flight of steps.
"…why they're doing it down there…" Mr Weasley panted and Hailey figured it was a good question. Unless they plan on throwing her in Azkaban if she was expelled. Hailey wouldn't put it past Fudge for doing just that.
They reached the bottom of the steps and ran along another corridor, and they finally made it to a grimy dark door that had a giant iron lock. Mr Weasley slumped against the wall and thumbed at the door as he grabbed his ribs. "Go on, get in there."
Hailey looked at him and nodded, figuring that he wasn''t allowed in there. She turned to the door.
"Good luck!" Mr Weasley called.
Hailey's heart was beating rapidly as she turned the iron door handle and walked inside the courtroom.
