AN: To the guy/girl that asked if I was homophobic:

I'm not scared of homosexual people, I just don't like them.

To everyone else:

It's been a while since I updated last. My friend, Joe (Los Fuegos), and I tried to the fix mistakes and whatnot throughout the story, but neither of us is too brilliant, so don't expect much of a change. I took out and edited some parts of previous chapters, as well. It's nothing too major so if you've read them already you don't have to again. If you haven't, well, why are you reading this…? If anyone can beta properly and would like to, send me a message or something. Otherwise everyone will have to settle with sub par writing.


Measure for Measure

Chapter IX: Icarus

Mr. Weasley fidgeted all along the ride down to the Department of Mysteries. Once the lift doors opened he stood for a moment as if contemplating whether or not this was the correct floor. I looked out, observed the worn red carpeting and paisley wallpaper, and exited. It seemed safe to me. Mr. Weasley made a strange sound and hurried after me. I spied a door ahead, at the far end of the hall. It was made of a dark wood, and seemed to give off a feeling of mysteriousness that pulled me towards it, it being so plain compared to the walls and floor.

When I was about halfway to down the hall, another hall opened up abruptly to my left. Mr. Weasley grabbed my shoulder and tugged me down it, so that he was now leading. I paused and peeked around the wall, staring at the mysterious door at the far end. Mr. Weasley didn't seem to notice that I wasn't following him. I stared at the door. It seemed decidedly familiar, as well as mysterious. Paradoxical, no?

"Harry!" I looked over my shoulder. Mr. Weasley, who was a ways down the hall, had stopped walking and was beckoning to me. I beckoned back. He mumbled something to himself and began to make his way back.

"What's through that door over yonder?" I asked him as he approached. He too peeked at the door, an unsettled look on his face. He turned away from it.

"That leads into the Department of Mysteries, Harry. It's best for us to leave it be," he whispered, "Come." He turned around and began to walk back. I continued to look at the door. The nagging sense of familiarity ground at my nerves as I backed away. I rubbed at my temples and followed Mr. Weasley. There would always be the return trip. I grinned, see, optimism. He looked at me queerly, but when I asked him what the matter was he answered with a token, "Nothing."

After we made a left turn, the scenery changed. The red carpeting gave way to cement floors, and the walls, which had been papered, were now as barren as a liger. We followed the dull hall in silence. Soon we came to an even less appealing flight of stairs. Upon seeing it, Mr. Weasley seemed to calm down quite a bit. He descended first, signaling me to follow after him.

We went down. The corridor we entered reminded me of school. The walls were lined with torch brackets that looked to be of the same make as the ones that ran along Hogwarts' many corridors. The stone walls were of the same dirty grey as Snape's dungeons and the floor's setts were laid in the exact pattern as the greasy Potions Master's classroom. I would know, without ceiling tiles it's rather difficult to pass the time in that class. It was as if the Ministry had hired the same contractor as Hoggy Warty Hogwarts. I began to hum the tune of the school's song, which happened to be "God Save the Queen" this time around, as Mr. Weasley and I walked briskly through the dank hallway. It kept me from twitching at the disturbing scenery we soon came across.

I'm all for the medieval dungeon look, but you reach a point where it becomes too much. I mean, the giant dark wood doors with disproportionately large padlocks upon them nearly whispered, 'Danger Be Here, Lad.' The large iron storm drains that we passed every so often actually did vocalize. Nothing intelligible, but it was creepy nonetheless. Mr. Weasley was busy counting the doors, not bothered in the least. He stopped counting once we spotted a door that was opened slightly, letting a bit of orange light escape into the hall.

"Right, Harry," he began as we drew even with the door, "In you get. I'm sorry, but I can't come with you."

"Not a problem," I said cheerily, "It always ends up this way, you know." He looked a bit shamed.

"I'm positive that Albus received the change of time as well, He'll be here." He looked down the hall.

"He'll be her—." I grunted. I hadn't been a fan of Dumbledore lately, especially after the fiasco of a birthday party I had. To make a long story moderately short, we had returned from getting my cereal only to find out that Mrs. Weasley had thrown me a surprise party. I was surprised of course, however, I was hit with an abnormally large flash of happiness from Voldemort at the same time, causing me to black out. Dumbledore showed up to help out, but left before I woke up. I woke up on the drawing room floor, about three minutes after I'd passed out.

I nudged the door open more with my knee and entered, leaving Mr. Weasley in mid-speech. I closed the door behind me. Looking around, I noted that I was in some sort of foyer. There was a table in front of me with a single gas lamp upon it. I turned right, crossed the entrance area and went through a plain black door.

The actual courtroom was huge. It was circular in shape, the floor was stone, and I could not see the ceiling from where I was standing. Yeah, it was that tall. As I lowered my gaze, I saw where I suppose the Wizengamot or whoever was to be seated. Roughly 20 feet above me, seats were arranged in a circular fashion around the room. A single high-backed chair stood higher than the rest in the center, and from there seats dropped in prominence as they circled the room, the ones behind me being the very lowest. They had taken King Arthur's round table of old and destroyed the concept. There was also one other thing on my mind, the full Wizengamot? For underage magic and a brawl? They weren't all here though, only a few older men in dark robes were fumbling with papers and holding whispered conversations near their not so prominent seats. There was no sign of anyone that could be Madam Bones.

"Sviene," I breathed, feeling Feste go limp in my pocket. It wasn't time for the clown's antics; it could cost me the trial. Dropping my gaze to my normal eye level, I looked ahead. Near the front were two tables, the one on the left having a single unoccupied chair, and the one on the right having two chairs. The leftmost chair was empty, but the one on the right was occupied by the man I now knew to be Thomas Avery. Standing between both tables was the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, and a tall man in tailored crimson robes. The man held a silver snake-headed cane at his side. It was Lucius Malfoy. I blinked. Not good. I stood rooted to the spot, thinking. Malfoy parlaying with Fudge was not something I wanted. If he was here, Voldemort may have fooled us. Snape could have lied to the Order of the Phoenix.

I knew there had to have been reason for not dropping the charges earlier. I thought on it, watching the men converse. If we had been tricked, Voldemort would have me in jail and the Headmaster would be further discredited for trying to help me. We were the only people in Britain's public eye to believe in his return. However, putting me in prison now would do nothing for Voldemort. I've been slandered for the entire summer and if I were to be locked up it would just be another thing to tack onto my list of faults. Dumbledore has already lost any major influencing power he had. I doubt Chocolate Frog card portraits were going to sway public opinion. People still would be none the wiser to the Dark Lord returning.

I looked at the speaking pair, and then to Avery. He seemed to be sleeping soundly on the table. I debated on whether or not to take a seat. Fudge and Malfoy weren't speaking loud enough for me to overhear what they were talking about, and I figured I'd look like an idiot, or worse, a coward, if someone saw me staring at the Minister and his buddy for an extended period of time. Rocks and hard places. Sighing, I looked at my shoes, making sure they were tied. I checked my fly, buttoned up my jacket and walked calmly over to the small unoccupied table. As I approached, Malfoy stopped talking, and when he caught sight of me, so did Fudge. I greeted them politely before taking a seat. Malfoy watched me closely the entire time.

"Minister," Lucius said after looking me over, "You don't mind if I have a small talk with Mr. Potter, do you?" Fudge shook his head. I looked at the Minister out of the corner of my eye. He was wearing the almost exact same ensemble as that other times that I'd seen him previously, black robes, dark green waistcoat, dark pants, and purplish bowler hat. He was holding the hat near his chest.

"Not at all," He replied, taking a step back. Malfoy gave him a look. I don't exactly know what kind of look it was, but it involved his eyes, eyebrows, and nose. The Minister looked as if he didn't exactly know what kind of look it was either.

"You also wouldn't mind retrieving those forms for me, would you?"

"Oh, certainly not, Lucius!" He made no move to leave, however. Malfoy tapped his cane on the ground.

"Presently, Cornelius," Malfoy said. An offended look came over Fudge's face. The blonde man stared at the Minister until he turned and made for the center seat above. As soon as Fudge reached his seat, Malfoy turned to me.

"Stand, Mr. Potter." I looked up at him.

"Why?"

"I wish to have a talk."

"About?" Malfoy's lip curled up at one side. I couldn't tell if it was a smile or a sneer.

"Your options." My hand slipped into my pocket and gripped my wand. I looked up at Fudge who seemed to be sifting through a large pile of papers.

"Never mind him," Malfoy said laying his cane on the table with a clack. Avery let out a snuffling sound.

"Why?" Lucius put his hand on the back of my chair and pulled it out.

"Cease with the monosyllables and get up, boy," He murmured. He didn't sound angry, but his expression implied it. He was taking pains to be civil. I stood, news is news. He inclined his head to me.

"I could not let the Minister know that that which he has been refuting for the past couple of months is, in fact, true," Lucius said in a lowered voice, turning so that he was facing a section of the room that was completely empty. He seemed in no way ashamed that he was playing Fudge. Although, I suppose once you've pledged yourself to a dogmatic mass-murderer with the face of an albino viper, everything short of genocide seems a mite trifling. However, staring at his bland expression, I couldn't help being angry at the man.

"It's pretty much your fault then, that every respectable paper has been defaming me, and nearly half of England's magic population hates me You can't man up and announce your allegiance," I said, "Well, I have no problems letting Fudge know that Voldemort is back and you've been capering about behind that nifty mask." Malfoy looked down at me.

"Nonsense, my allegiance is to Britain, Harry Potter. And don't expect to end this chat quickly, Cornelius won't return until he has found the form I requested," He whispered. He opened the front of his robes and allowed me to see a folded sheet of parchment tucked into an inside pocket. He smiled at me as I realized what it was.

"Fudge is the biggest and most powerful fool in government now, and if you oppose him here, he will find a way to put you away for a very long time. Just listen, I can help you."

"What makes you think that I'd take help from you or your Dark Lord?" I asked. He scrunched up his forehead at my tone.

"If you listen to me, Fudge will look like more of a fool and we will both leave here safely," he said quietly, "First, I'd advise you release your wand." I looked at him. His smile widened.

"Come now, Harry, I won't harm you."

"Well then, I still don't see what's keeping me from telling everyone what you've said," I returned, "It's a bit careless to talk like that in a courtroom."

"I've said nothing completely damning, Mr. Potter," Malfoy said, his smile returning to normal proportions, "It must be that rash way of thinking you're ever so famous for, that is piecing incriminations together." Lucius stepped back and faced me completely, leaning against his table. I looked at the sleeping Avery, and noticed something. The tip of a wand was protruding from under his arm. Malfoy saw that I'd detected it.

"Crouch's Imperius was candy floss as compared to Avery's," Lucius whispered conspiratorially. I shivered; he wouldn't dare use that in a bleeding courtroom with the thrice damned Minister of Magic a few meters away.

"Oh don't worry, Mr. Potter, we are quite prepared to take risks. Planting Crouch at Hogwarts had many benefits, I know your skill, and I will not miscalculate your improvisational abilities," He whispered as if reading my mind, "The Dark Lord doesn't tolerate slip ups, and Avery's error was idiotic. I need to correct it by any means. But," He paused, "Things need not be violent." Malfoy was serious. He would fix the problem, namely me. I looked at him, but there was nothing other than determination present on his face. Let it be known, though, that Death Eaters use botox. I let go of my wand and crossed my arms. Malfoy nodded. I shrugged.

"Why would you even want to help me?" I asked, voicing the question that had plagued Headquarters ever since Snape had recovered. Lucius' smile disappeared instantly.

"There are uses for a person such as yourself," the Death Eater said, "Uses that one cannot fulfill from within Azkaban. The Dark Lord is… confused when it comes to you, Harry Potter."

"So, you were ordered to help me, for reasons yet to be known?" I asked. Malfoy furrowed his brows.

"I am going to take it one step at a time, Mr. Potter. First the Minister has set up a trial for Underage Magic Use. You are to say that Avery attacked you first, understand?" He ordered, ignoring my remark. I nodded; I'd planned to do that anyway.

"If Bones isn't cowed by Fudge, I expect her not to be, she will reserve judgment until after the other trial. They will break and then convene Avery v. Potter, at which time I will inform the Wizengamot that Avery has decided to drop any charges." I nodded again, waiting to see the point of all this. Snape had said it would go down this way.

"Fudge will try to fight this, hoping to sway me. If he begins to grovel or cry, I will allow the trial to proceed, but Avery will lose. If worse comes to worse, he will go to Azkaban for assaulting a minor."

"I see," I said, "So what do I do?" Malfoy gave me a ghost of a smile.

"Sit and look innocent, Lord knows you're much better at it than Thomas."

"Right," I said, "One more question, Mr. Malfoy." He nodded.

"Why did you have to wait until now to drop the charges?" He shrugged.

"I was on vacation."

"Oh," I said, "Where?"

"Prague." I stared at him blankly, what would being on vacation in Prague have to do with my trial in England.

"Oh come now, Potter, you don't believe the Dark Lord has legions of politically trained, influential, and affluent contacts, do you?"

"No." Lucius looked at me strangely.

"Was that supposed to be humorous?"

"No."

"Alright."

"I'll just sit then," I mumbled, taking a seat and leaning back. Malfoy picked his cane up and approached the stairwell that led up to the Minister's seat. Avery kept his wand pointed at me as more of the Wizengamot began to fill the seats around the room. Lucius returned soon after the member sat in the very back, and prodded Avery. The man snorted loudly. Lucius grunted and jabbed him with the head of his cane. Avery sat up 'sleepily.' They made their way over to a bench at the back of the room. Malfoy didn't so much as glance at me as they passed. I looked up and ahead. A woman had taken the seat on the right of Fudge; she was a pleasant middle-aged sort. Her dark hair was clipped shorter than average and a monocle was set near her left eye. She was probably Madam Bones. At the Minister's immediate right was a man with a long curling beard, and peyos that would not be out of place on an orthodox Jew. I had no idea who exactly he was. He seemed to be conversing with the man next to him. Next to the man that the bearded man was talking to, was a man that was familiar to me, Percy Weasley. The third eldest Weasley boy had fallen out with his family and was now pursuing a career in political ass-kissing. It apparently had gotten him a job in law. I waved at him when he looked up from inking his quill. He didn't acknowledge me.

When everyone had gotten settled, the Minister of Magic opened his mouth to begin the hearing, but halted when the rear entrance was opened. I didn't turn to look; I knew from the expression on Fudge's face that it was Dumbledore. The Headmaster pulled even with my table. He was wearing orange robes, with white clouds drifting about lazily on the fabric. His beard was decidedly shorter then it was in June, now just reaching his chest. There was no wizard's hat 'pon his head and his wispy grey hair was cut shorter as well. He didn't look at me, but kept facing Fudge, Bones, and the other man. The Minister struggled to keep a frown off of his face, but the other two weren't angry, if anything they looked ashamed.

"Right, let's get on with it, then," Fudge said after he had calmed himself down, "Now beginning the hearing for Underage Magic use by Harry James Potter of Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, U.K." He was passed a slip of paper from the lady that I'd taken to be Ms. Bones. He looked it over and cleared his throat.

"All seats are within the chamber are filled, and the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Oswald Fudge is acting as Interim Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot. Interrogators present are, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Amelia Susan Bones, and Jerry. Is Mr. H.J. Potter present?"

"Yes," Dumbledore answered before I could reply. Fudge nodded, before rubbing his chin(s).

"And you are?"

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, here for Mr. Potter's defense."

"Did Mr. H.J Potter appoint you to this position," Fudge inquired.

"Yes," Dumbledore answered.

"I'm afraid we'll need Mr. H.J. Potter to confirm this himself," the bearded man, Jerry, said, "Mr. Potter?"

"Nope, I did not," I answered, "uh, Mr. Jerry." I had no idea what Dumbledore was going to do, I had no earthly clue whether or not I could trust that things would go smoothly if I let him take over. Even worse, I'm quite sure Avery had his wand trained on my back. I didn't want to upset the Death Eaters. If they pulled the Imperious off, and I couldn't fight back, I'd be screwed. They'd have ticket into Hogwarts and Headquarters, not to mention whatever they could make me do here.

"You did not?" Jerry asked, eyebrows raised.

"I haven't seen him all summer," I said, "I couldn't have appointed him anything."

"Well," Bones broke in, "Albus, you will have to take a seat."

"May I have a word with Mr. Potter, briefly?" the Headmaster asked. Fudge said no, as did Bones, but Jerry agreed.

"Go ahead," Madam Bones said after a whispered conversation with Fudge and Jerry, "Two minutes, starting now." Dumbledore nodded and turned to me. I looked up, but he didn't look me in the eyes.

"Harry," he began, "Do you have a plan of action?" I nodded. Malfoy's plan was pretty straightforward.

"I see, well, I was only trying to help." I shrugged.

"I can help myself when it comes down to it, Professor," I said quietly, "I appreciate the help you given me so far, but I can handle it on my own. They don't know the half of what I've done and will do." The old man took a step back and looked at me over his half-moon spectacles, which I noted were cracked. I looked at his face, the wrinkles were more pronounced and he had dark bags under his eyes. I suppose he had been busy, at least the Order hadn't lied about that much. He seemed tense, really tense. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, before looking at my eyes.

"Tell me, Harry, do you know the story of Icarus and Daedalus?"

"Yes," I answered simply. He looked as if he was searching for something.

"Time," Madam Bones called out, "Albus." The Headmaster looked at me once more, suddenly looking many, many years younger.

"Do not fall, Harry Potter."

AN: So, yeah. Review. Tell me if you want the actual trial part or not. Else I'm skipping to after the trial.

Godspeed,

Frack