Author's Note: I was absolutely overwhelmed by the reaction to the previous chapter. Thank you to all of my readers, with special thanks to my reviewers. Lullabymoon again has my gratitude for her editing. Enjoy!
*I apologize for the delay. I had trouble uploading this chapter for some unknown reason.*
Chapter 14:
The court resumed promptly at nine o'clock the following day with all the spectators and participants of the previous day in attendance. In addition, next to Madam Bones, the documents expert from the International Magical Office of Law polished a pair of curious spectacles as he waited for the trial to begin. These spectacles had several lens mounted on wires which could be stacked in various permutations, each of them spelled for a different purpose. A signet of Libra embroidered on his robes, the grey-haired wizard skimmed through his notations, occasionally peering curiously around at the packed courtroom. In loud voices, Umbridge and Fudge discussed their expectations of the forthcoming hours, confident of their success. The audience bustled back and forth along the rows and up and down the stairs, exchanging theories and rumors. Seated at his table, Jonathan tapped a pen against his knee and shot glances at the door.
Finally, the doors swung open to admit McGonagall. After she had taken her place, Madam Bones stood.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please settle down." She waited for their compliance before continuing, "Thank you. Court Scribe, are you ready?"
"Yes, ma'am," replied Percy.
"Good. I hereby reconvene the Wizengamot. At the end of yesterday's proceedings, the Minister presented the court with three letters allegedly written by Madam McGonagall which definitively prove her involvement in treasonous activities. Mr. Ashford requested that these letters be examined by a specialist in order to validate their authenticity. At this point, I ask Mr. Herodotus to testify as to the results of his investigation."
"Thank you Madam Bones," answered the wizard, rising to his feet. "For the record, my full name is Jacob Apollo Herodotus. I am a member of the International Magical Office of Law and have over forty years of experience in the field of document identification and verification. I received a request for my services yesterday and, fortunately, was able to examine the evidence in question yesterday evening."
"In order to provide a basis for comparison, I asked Madam McGonagall to copy the earliest letter under my supervision. This enabled me to compare a known sample of her handwriting with the three letters to determine if they had in fact been written by the same person. If I may, Madam Bones, I would like to project a facsimile of the documents so the court will be able to follow along and understand my final conclusions."
"Go ahead, Mr. Herodotus." Slipping his wand into his hand, Herodotus traced the edges of the first letter and McGonagall's exemplar and then outlined two similar rectangles in the air. He murmured a series of spells, causing the air to grow opaque and an enlarged likeness of the two documents to appear. With a flicking motion, the pair quadrupled until one exemplar and one letter faced each side of the courtroom.
"Can everyone see?" he inquired. The audience confirmed that they could. "Then I will begin. As I speak, I will use my wand thusly-" he underlined a sentence with a bold stroke "-to highlight certain clues which tell me whether or not Minerva McGonagall wrote this letter."
"On the surface, the writing appears remarkably similar. Keep in mind that even the same person will never reproduce their handwriting exactly every time. It naturally varies from example to example. However, some consistencies can be observed by an attentive and detailed inspection. Do you see this 'a' here and here?" Tilting his wand forward, he zoomed in on a particular 'a' in the letter, repeating the gesture for the exemplar. "Notice how the ovals of both slant very slightly towards the right. And on the lower-case 'g' the teardrop shape. The capital 'Ms' in the signature are distinctive as well."
"Which proves Madam McGonagall wrote the letters," cried out Umbridge, triumphant. "I think that is all we need to know to establish her guilt!"
"That would be premature," corrected Herodotus. "As I said, on the surface the two look very similar, which is not surprising since they were written by the same person –"
"But –" started the Minister.
"With all due respect, Minister, I am not finished. An amateur might have stopped at this point; however, I pride myself on my thoroughness. I focused my attention on each individual word and noticed that some transitions between letters, such as between the 'd' and the 'v' you see here, were less smooth than others. I then compared those transitions to the known exemplar. There were minute inconsistencies. With that in mind, I cast a series of spells and discovered something interesting. The individual letters matched those in the exemplar as did some words and combinations, yet the arrangement of the letters failed to match. This told me that although Madame McGonagall wrote the individual letters, she did not compose the text itself."
"In layman's terms, please," requested Ashford, noticing the scrunched foreheads and raised eyebrows of the audience.
"Well, it means that someone magically copied the individual letters and a few simple words like 'the' from a document written by Madam McGonagall. He or she then rearranged these basic components into whatever text was wanted. I found evidence of this technique in all three letters." As the realization of what Herodotus' conclusions meant spread, murmurs broke out in the crowd while Fudge looked worriedly at Umbridge. A tick throbbed in Umbridge's cheek and she avoided the Minister's gaze.
"Mr. Herodotus, is there any way to reveal the original passage from which the letters were copied?" Minerva solicited the expert, "I would like to know what the forger used to create this counterfeit documents."
"There is indeed. A spell of this type leaves distinct markers and I have successfully restored the original text in several other instances. Unfortunately, it destroys the evidence as it is, but since there are three of them and with Madam Bones' permission…"
"You have it, Mr. Herodotus."
Herodotus narrated his actions as he carried them out, "First I will unfix the individual letters from their current positions." The letters hovered above the parchment. "Then I will restore the original sequence and adhere the letters to the parchment. Normally, when forgers use this method, they retain the original parchment out of laziness or to avoid tipping an investigator off by using the wrong paper. If that is the case, all I have to do is raise the erased portions of the text and…eureka! The original text reforms line by line."
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear ,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We wait your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
Writ large in the air, Minerva and the rest of the courtroom immediately recognized it as the standard letter she sent out, signed with her signature, every summer to inform eleven year old witches and wizards of their place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Bones put in and adjusted her monocle to examine the parchment that Herodotus handed her at her request. The deception exposed, the focus shifted to Umbridge whose face had swelled and whose eyes were darting around the room.
Pressing the advantage, Jonathan demanded of the Minister, "Who gave you these letters, Minister? Were you aware that these were fakes?"
"No, no, I didn't know. Headmistress Umbridge gave them to me," stammered Fudge, his face pale and sweating.
"Headmistress Umbridge, how did you acquire these counterfeits?" demanded Madam Bones. The light reflected from her monocle and flashed angrily at Umbridge.
"I intercepted them," said Umbridge. With any sign of repentance, she continued arrogantly, "I thought it prudent to watch her mail, considering her close relationship with Albus Dumbledore."
"We will deal with this matter later," Madam Bones announced over the hisses and boos and other sounds of disapproval for Umbridge from the crowd, "For the moment, it is enough to throw this evidence out of court. And be assured Umbridge, this will be investigated thoroughly." The disapproval rapidly shifted to cheers of endorsement at this pronouncement.
"Wait!" Umbridge shouted, "When Albus Dumbledore confessed to treachery, McGonagall was prepared to help him in his escape. She threatened Auror Dawlish, Percy Weasley, myself, and the Minister of Magic. That is clearly treason!"
"Mr. Ashford?" queried Bones. "Madam McGonagall?"
"Madam Bones, serious accusations have been leveled at Madam McGonagall and have blackened her name. I will address Headmistress Umbridge's allegation, but I ask to be given the chance to present witnesses and other evidence to provide the foundation upon which we will refute these charges," declared Ashford. "I ask the court's indulgence and patience in this."
"Madam McGonagall?" Bones faced Minerva, "It is possible that the charges could be dismissed right now considering the recent developments. You would have to remain in custody until the trial is concluded and run the risk of something new being introduced which might prove damaging to your case."
"Madam Bones, if I concede now and the charges are dismissed, the stain on my reputation and character will not be completely washed away. I do not want to be judged not guilty because of technicalities and mishandled evidence. I will not permit any suspicion of treason linger around me. I am innocent. I will settle for nothing less than a verdict which affirms that innocence and wholly nullifies the damage done to my good name." With a roar, most of the spectators leapt to their feet, clapping and cheering and, in the case of the Weasley twins, whistling. Minerva gave them a small nod in reply.
"An understandable aspiration, Madam McGonagall. Very well, Mr. Ashford, Madam McGonagall, carry on."
"Thank you, Madam Bones," said Minerva. Fixing her gaze on Umbridge and then on Fudge, Minerva thought, Now it is my turn to show the world your treachery. Stepping aside, she allowed Jonathan to take center stage as they had agreed he would speak first, being much more eloquent and tactful with words than she normally could manage.
"This trial is not about Albus Dumbledore. It is not about Harry Potter or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Whatever you believe about those subjects, they are not the concern of this trial. This trial is about treachery." Striding in wide circle, Ashford caught the eyes of the witches and wizards in the rows above. The torchlight caught the silver strands in his hair, his robes sweeping out as he moved and his baritone voice ringing out crisply. "But not Minerva McGonagall's treachery. She is, as she claimed, innocent. No, the guilt lies elsewhere. It lies in the abuse of power, the abuse of authority, the abuse of trust. If Minerva McGonagall spoke out against this abuse, she did not speak against the Ministry, but rather against one or two of the Ministry's members. In truth, her loyalty never wavered and her actions demonstrate her devotion to her students, her community, and her country as she tried in vain to restore the values and morality upon which this nation is founded. I suggest, witches and wizards, that a true patriot does not blindly follow those in power when they trespass upon the rights of the citizens and actively endanger the lives of those they are sworn to protect. No, a true patriot draws a line in the sand and defen ds the laws and the ideals of her country. I will present you with valid and verifiable evidence to pull the masks off the genuine traitors and convince you of Professor McGonagall's innocence." Neither Fudge nor Umbridge dared to correct his usage of her title.
"The Minister and Headmistress Umbridge have alleged that Professor McGonagall would be the type of person to put her own self-interest above the needs and interests of her community. I think it would be beneficial for the court to hear from those who have known her and then can decide for themselves whether or not they find this assessment of her character plausible. Therefore, I ask Mr. Chaucer Blotts, the owner of Flourish and Blotts, to testify. Sir, if you would?" A grandfatherly wizard rose from a third row seat, leaning on a walking stick, and made his way along the row to the stairs where Ashford met him and offered him his arm.
"Thank you, young man. These bones don't move quite as quickly as they did in the old days, especially in this chilly dungeon of a room. Hello, Professor," he greeted Minerva when he reached the floor.
"Good morning, Mr. Blotts. Thank you for coming despite the conditions. Please, take a seat," she replied, pulling out Jonathan's chair and gesturing to it.
"Thank you. No real bother at all, I assure you. If Mr. Ashford here had not come to me, well, I would have insisted upon speaking on your behalf. Now, shall we get started?"
"Of course, Mr. Blotts. Would you please state your name and occupation for the record?" requested Jonathan. He stood to Blotts' left side while Minerva positioned herself behind his chair.
"Mr. Chaucer Lewis Blotts, sixth generation owner of Flourish and Blotts."
"How long have you known Professor McGonagall and could you describe your interaction with her over the years?"
"In deference to the lady, Mr. Ashford, I will merely say that I have known her since she visited Diagon Alley for her first year books rather than specifying a date. However I believe you would not be interested in recollecting the past, but rather in more recent times. When she became the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, she undertook the responsibilities of that post which traditionally include working with the shopkeepers of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade to ensure that the necessary supplies and books are ordered and available for the students each year. To that end, I have coordinated with her for many years as well as maintaining a cordial relationship based on a mutual appreciation for literature."
"In your opinion, how would you describe Professor McGonagall's character and person? Is she a competent Deputy Headmistress? Is she responsible? Trustworthy?" inquired Ashford.
"Absolutely, Mr. Ashford. With a very few exceptions, we have always received the required books list in a timely manner. It is also my understanding that those exceptions were usually not the fault of Professor McGonagall, but rather the fault of others. When we have copies of required texts that we cannot sell or return to the publisher, Professor McGonagall will often arrange to purchase them to add to the Hogwarts library or make available to those students who might need a little extra help financially. In regards to payment, I have never had the slightest bit of trouble."
"So, overall, you would consider Minerva McGonagall to be an honest and genuinely honorable person?"
"Without a doubt," answered Blotts with an emphatic knock of his cane against the floor.
"What about the other shopkeepers? I understand that you are the head of the Diagon Alley Shopkeepers Association."
"I have discussed this with them in depth. They all agree with me on this. Her reputation is sterling. Even if an order has been miscommunicated or lost or otherwise gone astray, she has never treated any of us with anything less than respect and politeness. I find the idea of her being a traitor utterly implausible," declared Blotts.
"Thank you, Mr. Blotts. Unless the court has any additional questions, I can escort you back to your place," offered Jonathan.
"I don't believe we do," said Madam Bones. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Blotts."
"You are welcome ma'am, but I was merely fulfilling my civic duty. I could not let the court convict a woman wrongly."
"Nonetheless, you have my gratitude, Mr. Blotts," Minerva voiced quietly as he took Jonathan's arm.
"Then you can thank me by stopping by the store after this business is finished. I have recently acquired one or two books which might tempt you." Minerva nodded graciously and Jonathan took Blotts back up to his seat.
During all of this Umbridge had been participating in a whispered conversation with a frizzy-haired Wizengamot witch and a nondescript Ministry underling. Now she hissed in the Minister's ear and Fudge straightened himself up, losing some of the insecurity and dismay that had marked his expression since the revelation of the forgeries.
"Madam Bones, my assistant has just brought the presence in the courtroom of representatives from the International Magical Office of Law and the French Ministry as well as a reporter from Le Monde Magique to my attention. Why are they present? As I requested again last evening, I believe the trial should be closed to the public and certainly to foreigners," protested Umbridge. "I see no reason for their participation unless, perhaps McGonagall intends to flaunt the decision of the court and switch her alliance to a foreign nation in order to avoid justice?"
"These representatives are present at the request of the French Ministry and the International Confederation of Wizards. Madam McGonagall has a dual citizenship with France and, quite properly, the French Ministry wanted to guarantee a fair trial. To refuse their appeal would be a breach of the treaties we have in place. The International Confederation deemed it prudent to send an envoy from the Magical Office of Law in order to oversee the trial and help mediate any problems which might arise," explained Bones. "I gave my full approval to their involvement and I am certain that Madam McGonagall has no such plans to beg for asylum."
"A dual citizenship? Hem, hem, well, does that not split her loyalty between France and Britain?" questioned Umbridge with the appearance of innocence. "That is certainly interesting."
At Umbridge's insinuations, the witch beside Healer Chevalier, a perfectly coiffed woman in navy robes, stood up and called out with a trace of a French accent, "Madam Bones, if I may? I would like to address the court."
"Of course, Minister Chevalier."
"Thank you, Madam Bones." Descending the stairs, the witch nodded to Minerva and pivoted to confront Umbridge. Alert and intelligent hazel eyes pierced the Ministry appointed Headmistress. On the ground, the witch was revealed to be a couple of inches shorter than McGonagall, but still significantly taller than Umbridge with slate grey hair pulled into a loose chignon at the base of her neck. Her features, lined with years of care and life's success and failures, suggested an iron will and that she was accustomed to being obeyed. Next to McGonagall, a stranger might have supposed them to be related in some fashion.
"Your name is Dolores Umbridge, correct?" inquired the witch.
"Yes, I am. You can address me as Headmistress Umbridge," declared Umbridge arrogantly.
"I will not." Chevalier watched coolly as the other woman's face turned red, Umbridge opening her mouth to reply. Cutting her off Chevalier stated simply, "You do not deserve the title or the respect it confers upon the bearer. I shall address you as 'miss' since you have not earned the right to be called 'madam' nor are you married and therefore may use 'misses.' I believe that is the British custom?" She glanced at Bones who confirmed her guess.
"Thank you. As some of you may knows I am Celeste Chevalier, Minstre pour la defense de France. However, my presence here is unofficial so far as any action on behalf of my government is concerned. I am not here to offer asylum nor do I believe Professor McGonagall would even consider such a proposal. Instead, I am here as a sign of support from the French Ministry as well as to personally support an old and valued friend." She exchanged a brief glance with Minerva before continuing, "Miss Umbridge mentioned that my friend carries a dual citizenship with France. She appears to be completely ignorant of why and the credit which is actually reflected upon the United Kingdom by that fact. I want to enlighten her."
"My acquaintance with Professor McGonagall began shortly before the surrender and subsequent occupation of France by Germany. As a member of the Aurors, she was sent to France to provide assistance and to help facilitate communication of key military information. Over the course of the war, she served the Allied forces with great distinction and at great risk to her own life. When the war ended, France wished to present her with a token of their appreciation for her service. We do not forget those who have aided us when our need was desperate. We do not forget their service. The Ministry decided upon La Croix d'Honneur, our highest award. However, in order to receive the medal, one must be a citizen of France. Therefore the Ministry extended the offer of dual citizenship to Professor McGonagall. It seemed only fitting that she be granted citizenship in the country she helped to defend against the Dark Lord Grindelwald, Hitler and their confederates. In the history of the award, we have never bestowed it upon a member of another nation before or since Professor McGonagall's presentation. That we chose one of your countrywomen reflects with honor upon your nation and illustrates our gratitude for the aid and alliance which was given to France by Britain during one of our darkest hours."
Applause shattered the silence that had enveloped the audience during Chevalier's speech. Umbridge looked taken aback, perhaps realizing for the first time that she had not accused a mere schoolmarm without any larger significance in the Wizarding world, but a very well respected and able witch with prominent connections besides Albus Dumbledore. Fudge appeared distressed by these latest revelations and fidgeted in his seat, occasionally shooting anxious looks at Chevalier, Umbridge, and McGonagall.
"She never told us she was an Auror," exclaimed Harry to Ron and Hermione.
"Did you ask?" Hermione queried.
"No," replied both boys.
"Honestly, do you think the professors didn't have lives before they began teaching at Hogwarts? They don't just materialize out of the walls, now do they?" Hermione asked sarcastically.
"Well…no," said Ron.
"If you didn't ask, then why would she bring it up?"
"Did you know?" demanded Harry.
"I knew she was an Auror. I didn't know about the Croix d'Honneur."
"When did you find out?" asked Harry.
"Mr. Ashford mentioned it when he was talking with me about possibly interning with him in the future, either later this summer or next summer, whenever I have the chance," explained Hermione. "Assuming I can convince my parents." While this conversation took place, Chevalier had returned to her seat and Ashford prepared to call another witness.
However, Fudge prevented him from doing so by checking a pocket watch and insisting, "Madam Bones, the court requires a recess. It is almost noon."
"One hour only, Minister. The court will resume at one o'clock." Scattering, the crowd bustled out to grab lunch while Umbridge and Fudge held a hurried meeting to try to salvage something out of the rapidly deteriorating situation, rapidly deteriorating for them at least. Unfortunately for them, when the court reconvened after lunch, Ashford and McGonagall continued blasting even more holes in the Minister's sinking ship. In quick succession, the Headmistress of the Salem Institute and the Head of the National Academy of Spain testified as to their assessment of Minerva as the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and were overwhelmingly positive and complimentary in their statements. Finally, Ashford directed the attention towards the members of the Hogwarts community itself, beginning with the senior Head of House.
"Professor Flitwick, how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" queried Ashford.
"This upcoming school year will be my thirty-eighth year of teaching. I was hired by Headmaster Dumbledore in 1957 for the post of Charms Professor and I was appointed Head of Ravenclaw shortly thereafter," answered Filius.
"May I ask what you did before joining the Hogwarts staff?"
"I worked as a member of various research institutes on the theory of Charms as well as helping to develop new spells and counterspells. As a hobby, I competed in international dueling competitions."
"Professor Flitwick, how did you meet Professor McGonagall for the first time?"
"We had been introduced before I arrived at Hogwarts and, through research, had shared a slight correspondence. However, I was aware that she had replaced Dumbledore as Transfigurations Professor and Head of Gryffindor. Upon my arrival at the castle, near the beginning of August, she helped me to settle into my quarters and organize my classroom. I learned at that point she had been appointed as Deputy Headmistress. My predecessor had agreed to be the temporary Deputy Headmistress for a year and a half to smooth the transition between Headmasters and to wait for Professor McGonagall to be formally accepted by Hogwarts, making her eligible for the Deputy Headship," explained Filius.
"Having worked alongside Professor McGonagall for so long, what are your impressions of her, particularly as a fellow educator?" asked Jonathan.
Filius smiled brightly at Minerva, turned back to address the court, and replied, "I have always held her in high esteem. In regards to her teaching, her standards are high, but not unattainable, and her students typically do well on examinations. I have never known her to refuse a request for additional help. If a student demonstrates their willingness to work, she will put forth as much effort as they do. Additionally, she has never displayed any signs of favoritism in regards to either individuals or House affiliation. She is exceptionally fair and evenhanded. As Deputy Headmistress, she is eminently capable. Even during periods in which the Headmaster was absent the school continued to run efficiently and effectively due to her diligence and competence."
"Not entirely, Professor Flitwick. The support of an excellent staff makes my job much less difficult," Minerva asserted.
"Thank you, Minerva, but a great deal of the credit still goes to you," said Filius. "In fact, having to manage in your absence, I find myself quite astonished at the amazing amount of work you must do. Does that answer your question, Mr. Ashford?"
"Very nicely, Professor Flitwick. Professor Flitwick, could you explain to the court how Headmistress Umbridge came to be appointed to the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
"When the Minister observed that the Headmaster had not found a suitable candidate for the post, he decreed that his power extended so far as to allow him to appoint someone of his choosing. Dolores Umbridge was that choice," explained Filius.
"Professor, did she undergo any sort of interview or application process?"
"No."
"Is this common practice?"
"Absolutely not," said Flitwick. "Normally the applicants go through a process to weed out those who would be unsuitable. At the very least, they are required to demonstrate some rudimentary knowledge of their subject. The Defense position has been difficult to keep occupied for some time, but the Headmaster has always strived to try to find a decent replacement every year."
"Professor Flitwick, what level of expertise would most professors at Hogwarts exhibit in their particular subject?"
"Most of us are among the top practitioners in our field. Although it is not required, many of us contribute to journals and to ongoing research in our area of expertise in addition to our teaching duties. Hogwarts has been fortunate to attract the quality of professors which currently comprise the majority of the staff since teaching detracts greatly from the time available for independent research and therefore few experts are willing to make the sacrifice. In the time I have taught at Hogwarts, the leading research establishments as well as private companies have attempted to lure every member of the staff from Hogwarts at one point or another with very generous offers."
"Then, given the incentives to leave, do you and the other staff members decide to stay?" Ashford assumed a curious and somewhat puzzled expression.
"This is our calling, Mr. Ashford. It is as simple as that. However, the administration has always encouraged and aided our research endeavors whenever possible."
"Professor, while I am aware that you are not a Defense specialist and thus may not be as knowledgeable about those in that field, does Dolores Umbridge possess any of this high level of expertise which characterizes the rest of the staff? Has she published articles or written any treatise or participated in joint ventures?"
"When I learned of her appointment, I investigated her background as did several other members of the faculty. We reached the conclusion that we could find no evidence of any proficiency in the Defense Against the Dark Arts. She also had no experience in working with children or in teaching."
"Thank you, Professor. Still, it might not be impossible for her to succeed at her post?" Jonathan suggested. "In your own opinion and view, how has the school year progressed? Perhaps starting with her effectiveness as a teacher, her original post?"
"Mr. Ashford, it is my belief, and the belief of my colleagues, that she proved to be a woefully ineffective teacher. We have spoken with the students and with the Board of Examiners on this matter and they confirm our assessment," declared Filius. "In addition to failing to educate the students, she failed to even maintain control within her own classroom."
"What about as this High Inquisitor? And as Headmistress?" probed Jonathan.
"I'm afraid I cannot say anything positive about her actions in those positions either, Mr. Ashford. When inspecting the teachers, she held to none of the accepted standards. She did not consult education experts or texts to determine appropriate evaluation procedures and criteria. On more than one occasion, she used derogatory terms to refer to several staff members, including myself, and blatantly dismissed Muggle Studies as useless. According to her, Muggle Studies should be abandoned entirely because, to paraphrase her words, Muggles are of no significance or value."
"Her Educational Decrees undermined the ability of the staff to properly govern the school and instruct the students. In particular, the Decree Twenty-five allowed punishments allotted to students by other professors to be overturned by the High Inquisitor. She used this power for the benefit of those students who were her favorites and to punish other students whom she disliked for one reason or another. Additionally, her Inquisitorial Squad caused problems for the rest of the student body and the professors. She gave them free rein to do as they wished which they took as leeway to abuse the younger or more vulnerable students. With Decree Twenty-five in place, the staff found it exceedingly difficult to discipline these Squad members."
"As Headmistress, she did not improve her record. She performed none of the duties of the office and continued to perpetuate a climate of insecurity and fear within the castle walls. The staff carried on as best we could while Professor McGonagall assumed much of the responsibilities of the Headship in addition to her normal workload. When Professor McGonagall was removed, the situation deteriorated further. Shall I continue?" asked Flitwick, his voice uncharacteristically hard.
"I think the court has understood the general idea, Professor Flitwick. Thank you for your time," interrupted Fudge. "There is no need to go on." Flitwick regarded him with a stern gaze that made it suddenly much easier to imagine him as champion duelist.
"Professor Flitwick," Madam Bones said courteously, "Mr. Ashford, with respect, we should move forward. Naturally, if either Mr. Ashford or the court has further questions, Professor Flitwick may be recalled. Thank you, Professor. The court appreciates your testimony."
"Very well, Madam Bones," agreed Flitwick and he retired to his seat after murmuring a quiet word or two of encouragement and support to Minerva who thanked him softly.
"Please call your next witness, Mr. Ashford," requested Bones.
"I would like to ask Madam Pomfrey to come to the floor," replied Jonathan. When the Matron reached the bottom of the stairs, Jonathan met her and offered her his chair which he had pulled out in front of the table.
"Thank you, Mr. Ashford." Poppy straightened her Matron's robes and asked, "How can I help you?"
"Could you state your name and position please?" requested Madam Bones.
"My name is Poppy Pomfrey and I am the Hogwarts' Matron. I am in charge of the hospital wing."
Ashford posed his first question, "So if students are hurt or sick, they come to you for treatment, right?"
"Certainly. I am a fully qualified Healer and am responsible for their health."
"This is irreverent!" broke in Umbridge, unable to be restrained any longer by the glares and other indications of displeasure Madam Bones directed towards her whenever she had tried to speak before this. She pushed herself to her feet and waved her hand at the trio assembled below. "This has no relation to the charge of treason! We should not allow any more of this...this idle drivel. Madam Bones, I demand you put a halt to this!"
"Headmistress Umbridge, you will sit down and refrain from interrupting the business of this court again," commanded Madam Bones. "Otherwise I will have you thrown out of this courtroom. Your presence is neither required nor desired and is only barely tolerated. If I were you, I would not draw attention to myself unless you wish me to deal with the issue of the forged letters here and now." Cheeks swollen and purpling, Dolores pursed her lips, but kept them shut. "Good choice. Mr. Ashford, please continue but, although she expressed it in a very improper and impolite fashion, the court does need to see a connection between your witness and your defense of the charge of treason."
"Noted, Madam Bones. I promise you that everything you have heard is part of our defense," Jonathan assured her, then turned back to the Matron. "Madam Pomfrey, how many serious injuries on average do you tend over the course of a school year?"
"About a dozen, mostly due to miscellaneous accidents and Quidditch," answered the Matron. "They are usually things like broken arms or light concussions, that sort of thing. Nothing I can't treat of course, just injuries that require an overnight stay in the Hospital wing."
"I see. And how many of these types of injuries did you treat over this past year?"
"Close to sixty." Shocked gasps ricocheted through the audience, in particular through the student section as parents questioned their students.
"That's five times as many as in previous years, Madam Pomfrey. How did this happen?" Bones' urgent inquiry was echoed by many of the witches and wizards in the audience.
"When that woman entered the school, she made changes that caused this. She gave the biggest bullies in the school what amounted to permission to torment the more vulnerable students, students who were younger or smaller or less skilled in spellwork, and then refused to allow them to be disciplined for their actions. Her Inquisitorial Squad chased first and second years down stairs, causing them to fall and hurt themselves. They used curses and fists to terrorize their victims if they caught them out of sight of one of the staff. When the other students fought back or tried to defend another, they were punished severely. The corridors became dangerous to even traverse, especially for the younger students."
"What about the less serious injuries, Madam Pomfrey?" cried out one of the Wizengamot members.
"Sir, magical schools are prone to a relatively small number of minor accidents. It's simply a fact of having so many young witches and wizards learning to use their powers. A few bumps and bruises are to be expected. However, I have never seen as many as I did this past year. Students, especially in the last couple of months of term, came in with all sorts of minor injuries in great numbers. Furthermore, throughout the school year, I noticed that students were reporting more headaches and incidents of insomnia than the average. The entire atmosphere of the school was depressive and exceptionally stressful. Without a doubt, it affected the students awfully," revealed Poppy. "In all my years at Hogwarts, I have never witnessed anything like this and I can track this horrible transformation from Dolores Umbridge's appointment as a professor. Moreover, every time she gained more power, the situation became worse."
Umbridge's face whitened considerably as the mutterings of the crowd reached her ears. Fudge wiped his face with a handkerchief while Madam Bones spoke in a low voice with an assistant, her demeanor grave. In the seats above, parents twisted around to confer with other parents, comparing accounts of their children and ultimately reaching a disturbing conclusion. Many of the students exchanged ardent expressions of hope that Umbridge would, in the words of the Weasley twins, "finally get what's coming to her!"
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey for your time," announced Jonathan. The Matron was besieged with questions as she returned to her seat, but the audience refocused on Ashford and McGonagall when Ashford spoke again. "Madam Bones, I would like to ask for a little flexibility in regards to procedure for the following testimonies."
"May I ask why, Mr. Ashford?"
Instead of Ashford, McGonagall answered, "I intend to testify on my own behalf, Madam Bones, but I wish to be able to pose questions of my own."
Ignoring the Minister's muttered directives to forbid the defense this leniency, Madam Bones replied, "You have my approval, Professor McGonagall, Mr. Ashford, to proceed with the caveat that I can withdraw my consent if I believe it necessary."
"Of course, Madam Bones. Thank you," said Jonathan. He walked forward until he was almost pressed against the wall directly underneath Madam Bones, turning around to put his back to the audience. From the perspective of many in the crowd, all that could be seen of him was his head and shoulders. Minerva had removed herself to stand to the right of her chair, laying one hand on the scarred wood of the high backrest. For a moment, silence reigned in the courtroom, laden with the hopes and fears and anticipations of those in attendance. Defiant, stately, clad in robes of rich sangria, Minerva presented a sharp contrast to the Minister and his appointed Headmistress. Next to her, they appeared as nothing more than pompous and pretentious courtiers grasping for power whereas Minerva evoked an image of the great queens of the past, powerful and wise and noble of heart and spirit, refusing to bow to those who tried to drag her and the nation into the sewers with them.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I have been accused of treachery. I have been accused of desiring to cause the downfall of the community of which I am a proud member and which I have spent a significant portion of my life serving. I have proclaimed my innocence and I stand by that declaration. I trust that you will judge me based upon the evidence and upon your knowledge of my character regardless of the influence of those who seek to sway you towards a verdict of guilt prematurely and to exploit the situation for their own ends."
"When I learned of Dolores Umbridge's appointment to the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts, I was concerned. Upon discovering her lack of experience in both Defense and in education, my worries grew. Within weeks of her arrival, I realized that my suspicions had been well founded. Students began to report of her subtle verbal abuse of Muggleborns as well as her obvious favoritism of certain students who had parents with influence in the Ministry."
Ashford asked, "Professor McGonagall, were you aware of this increase in injuries in the student population?"
"I was. Even before Madam Pomfrey brought it to my attention, I had noticed a steadily rising number of incidents in which students were hurt. The worst increases coincided with increases in Dolores Umbridge's power at Hogwarts." Minerva strode to the table and opened a black case lying on its top. "These are the reports from Madam Pomfrey concerning all injuries which can be attributed to Dolores Umbridge's influence," she said, withdrawing a thick sheaf of parchment. They made a heavy thump when she set them down on the table. "I remind you that these are the injuries which were reported to the Matron, often only when they were serious enough to need professional assistance."
"When this disturbing trend of abuse first made itself apparent, I started to keep a record of incidences involving Dolores Umbridge. After Professor Dumbledore was forced to leave, I requested that the rest of the staff begin their own log of such occurrences as well in order to provide solid documentation." As she extracted a stack of journals from the case, Minerva continued, "In total, we recorded over two hundred and fifty separate instances of abuse. They range from slurs referring to Muggleborns, used by Umbridge herself, to physical abuse."
At this point, Jonathan stepped forward and took a sheet of parchment that Minerva handed him. He called out, "Would these students please come to the floor? Lee Jordan, Judy Hawkins, Kenneth Towler, Harry Potter, Naomi Wyatt…" As Jonathan continued to read off the names, students worked their way down the stairs, almost completely filling the floor until only glimpses of the flagstones could be seen among the press of young witches and wizards. However, Minerva ensured that a small circle of space was kept clear directly in front of Madam Bones.
"All of these students, ladies and gentlemen, are victims of Dolores Umbridge's reign at Hogwarts. Miss Wyatt, would you like to begin?" inquired McGonagall, her eyes upon a fourth year Hufflepuff with curly strawberry blond hair and freckles across her nose.
"Yes, Professor." Drawing herself up a little more, the girl stepped into the circle. "Madam Bones, I approached Professor Umbridge after class to discuss one of my assignments which I had gotten a bad mark on. She said I shouldn't even bother trying since nothing could be expected of a child of a Muggle. I asked if she would help me, but she said I would never good at anything magical and that she wouldn't waste her time on a half-blood." Her voice, shaky and soft at the beginning, grew gradually stronger as she spoke. "She said the same thing to one of the other Muggleborns in my class."
"Thank you, Miss Wyatt," Minerva said in an undertone as she rejoined the rest of the students. "You did well. Who would like to go next?"
"I would, Professor," announced Towler, his lanky frame straight with determination. At Minerva's nod, he took Miss Wyatt's place. "About a week before term ended, I found three members of the Inquisitorial Squad shoving one of the younger Gryffindors, Dennis Creevey."
Dennis Creevey pushed himself into the circle and said, "I'm Dennis Creevey, Madam Bones. They were calling me a Mudblood and trying to make me give them my money. If Kenneth hadn't stopped them, I would have had to go to Madam Pomfrey."
"I just wanted to make them leave him alone, Madam Bones. I called for a teacher and Professor Vector heard me. She gave the Inquisitorial Squad detentions and took away points," added Towler.
Professor Vector rose from her seat, revealing, "Unfortunately Madam Bones, our Ministry appointed Headmistress reversed my attempts to discipline those responsible. She lifted their punishment and instead applied it to Mr. Towler and Mr. Creevey."
Madam Bones, and the rest of the crowd, turned appalled expressions upon Umbridge who vainly tried to appear innocent, but whose eyes kept flicking around the room frantically.
"Thank you, Mr. Creevey, Mr. Towler, Professor Vector," said Jonathan.
"Professor, may I go next?" requested Timothy Grail, a Ravenclaw sixth year whose stout build made him a valuable player on his house Quidditch team.
"Of course, Mr. Grail," answered Minerva, ushering him into the space.
"Madam Bones, I am one of the Ravenclaw prefects. When I defended one of the younger students against Professor Umbridge, she threatened to give the caretaker permission to beat me. Then she gave me a week's worth of detentions."
"Did I understand you correctly, Mr. Grail? Headmistress Umbridge threatened to have you beaten?" demanded Madam Bones over the gasps of shock and horror from the audience.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Did she make similar threats to anyone else?" queried Madam Bones urgently, leaning forward and peering at the assembled students. The crowd copied her movement, whispering amongst themselves.
"Yes!" "She did to me!" "She told my best friend that, Madam Bones!" "She said she would do it herself!" The exclamations of confirmation from the students caused the bright patches of color on Bones' checks to deepen and her eyes to gleam in the torchlight. Umbridge, on the other hand, stared straight into a wall, not having the courage to meet the furious gazes of the parents and other audience members.
"She claimed that another Educational Decree would allow her to punish us in whatever way she wanted," declared Grail. Cries of "what!" echoed in the courtroom. Madam Bones appeared sickened by the very thought.
One of the parents leapt up and shouted, "Why didn't we know about this? Why didn't our students tell us about this?"
"We couldn't!" Judy Hawkins' voice pierced the tumult, loud despite her size. "She checked all our mail! If we wrote anything bad about her, she would tear it up." The other students chorused their agreement, causing the parents to intensify their clamors for explanations and justice.
"Excuse me," Minerva attracted the mass' attention. They quieted enough to hear her, mutters still rumbling in the rows. "Even if the students had been able to report these threats to their parents, Umbridge was careful. She deliberately targeted students from Muggle families or from families without any significant influence in the Ministry. In other words, she preyed upon those students whose parents could be safety ignored or silenced if they complained by associates of hers with greater power in the Ministry. She considered those students to be less important than their classmates merely because their family is not from a pureblood line or wealthy or both and therefore that group of students were deemed acceptable targets for abuse."
Murderous glares focused themselves on Dolores Umbridge, whose white face and widen eyes betrayed her mounting alarm and fear. She chanced a glance at the Minister. Fudge was staring at her with the expression of a man who, stumbling around in the dark, flicked on a light to discover his house ransacked and his possessions stolen. Umbridge gulped, her eyes darting around the room in a desperate effort to find an ally. She found none. On the floor, Lee Jordan had volunteered to be the next witness and McGonagall managed to calm the crowd somewhat to permit him to be heard.
"Madam Bones," Jordan projected his voice well, not unexpected for Hogwarts' Quidditch commentator, and the audience hushed even further. "Umbridge has given me multiple detentions during which she forced me to write lines-"
"Writing lines is a traditional form of detention at Hogwarts," interrupted Fudge abruptly, clutching at the slightest hope of saving his sinking ship. "I don't see what is so remarkable about that. Madam Bones, can we stop – "
"She made us write the lines in our own blood!" shouted Harry, starting forward into the circle with Jordan. Clenching his first, Harry held it up, the white scars distinguishable to Madam Bones and others in the first row. I must not tell lies.
"He's lying!" Umbridge's screech punctured the dead silence induced by Harry's outburst. As one, every eye in the chamber locked onto her with horror, disbelief, and a gradual dawning of fury. "You can't believe anything that boy says! Madam Bones, Minister, you can't believe him!"
"I am not lying!" declared Harry. "How else do you explain these marks?"
"You probably did it to yourself, Mr. Potter! I wouldn't be surprised since you are very disturbed and attention seeking child!"
"What about me?" Jordan demanded. "Am I lying as well?"
"Of course you are you insolent boy! You challenged my authority. I had to punish you!"
"What about us?" called out Towler, gesturing to the assembly of the students on the floor who seconded him in a roar of sound. "Are we all lying too?"
"Yes! Yes, you're all vile little liars!" screamed Umbridge, her cheeks swollen and bloated. She had hopped to her feet and had her shaking finger pointed at the students. "Minister," she appealed to Fudge, "you can't take them seriously! They are obviously plotting against me. I brought discipline to that school. I gave you control at Hogwarts. I uncovered the schemers who were trying to undermine you and the Ministry. You can't believe these, these, these beastly children!"
When Umbridge gasped for breath to continue, Jonathan preempted her, "Auror MacDougal, would you please bring the item we discussed down." The Auror descended the stairs, carrying a wooden box which she placed on the tabletop. "Thank you. Would you please open the box?"
Tapping the catch with her wand, MacDougal revealed the contents of the box. Resting on a pair of wooden holders, a skeletal black quill glinted in the torchlight.
Addressing the students, Jonathan asked, "Do you recognize this quill?"
"Yeah, that's the quill she made us use!" cried out Harry. A chorus of agreement backed him.
"They are lying again!" shrieked Umbridge. "How do they know where the quill came from?"
"Auror MacDougal, could you tell where you found this quill?" inquired Ashford.
"When Auror Tonks and I were sent to Hogwarts to examine Professor McGonagall's office and quarters, Headmistress Umbridge wanted to speak to us before we left. She wanted to extract details of our search. While we waited for her in her office and I noticed this quill on her desk. When I examined the quill, I recognized the signature of the Dark magic in it. Naturally, I confiscated it. I later identified it as a Blood Quill which, as the students recount, uses the blood of the writer for ink. The process is described as being quite painful and potentially scaring," reported MacDougal. "At the time, I was willing to grant Headmistress Umbridge the benefit of the doubt. I assumed that she had happened upon the quill and had retained it as an exemplar of a Dark object. Now, however, with the testimonies of these students…I see I was probably grossly mistaken." MacDougal returned to her seat, not without giving Umbridge a look that conveyed her revulsion for the woman.
Gulping, Umbridge tried to defend herself, "MacDougal must be mistaken. That is just a quill. It was given to me by a friend as a gift. There is nothing extraordinary about it at all!" The students' denial of her statement deafened the crowd for a minute as they made their objections know.
"Settle down, please," directed McGonagall which the students immediately heeded, reducing their comments to occasional mutterings.
"If this is a normal quill, Miss Umbridge, as you claim, and Auror MacDougal was erroneous in her identification, I am sure you will not mind demonstrating its usage for the court?" suggested Jonathan, removing the quill from its container. He offered it to Umbridge, who drew her hands away from the quill immediately.
"I will not. I would be careful, Mr. Ashford. I am a member of the Ministry and the Ministry appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts. Questioning my word would be tantamount to questioning the authority of the Ministry itself. If you do not withdraw your question, you might find yourself accused of treachery alongside Minerva McGonagall!" Her pitch climbed higher and higher as she spoke, visibly shaking.
"Dolores, do not be ridiculous!" snapped Madam Bones. "Given the falsehoods in your speech and actions prior to this, the court requires that you prove that you are actually telling truth this time if you have any hope of being believed. Take the quill."
A hush spread over the courtroom as the witches and wizards waited for Umbridge to stretch out her hand and take the quill from Ashford. A full three minutes expired before any movement disturbed the tableau. Umbridge was not the one to stir.
In a flash of scarlet, Minerva approached Jonathan and plucked the obsidian quill from his hand. As the courtroom watched in bewilderment, she kept the quill in one hand as she quietly shooed the students back to their seats. A few, mostly Gryffindors including Harry, refused to leave. Stubborn Gryffindors, she thought. Although I suppose Severus would remark that they are merely mimicking their Head of House, especially after I go through with this. Briefly catching Severus' gaze, she saw comprehension flicker across his face. The Slytherin shook his head a fraction of an inch, but Minerva responded with an equally small nod before redirecting her focus to sweep the crowd with her eyes. She deliberately avoided the stare of the plain wizard in the shadows of the upper corner. If Severus had discerned her purpose, Albus had certainly done so as well and was probably not very pleased with it. Even if she could not sense him magically at the moment, Minerva had absolutely no doubt of that. This is my decision and my choice Albus. And I will not stand for any lecturing later either.
Stepping over to the table, she slid a blank piece of parchment from Jonathan's case.
"Mr. Potter, would you repeat what she forced you to write?" she called out in the stillness.
Confused, Harry answered, "'I must not tell lies.'"
"Thank you." Setting quill to parchment, she wrote rapidly, I must not tell lies.
"Professor!" "Minerva, what the hell!" "Professor McGonagall!" A convulsion of protestations erupted from the assembled witches and wizards. Ashford sprang forward and seized the quill as it hit the table.
Blood blossomed on her hand, crimson red and shockingly vibrant against her pale skin. Breathing through the spikes of pain, Minerva closed her fist and brought it to rest in front of her heart. Ignoring the uproar around her, Minerva accepted the handkerchief Jonathan offer her and wiped the most of blood off, exposing the writing.
"I'm fine, Jonathan," she insisted at his worried inquiry. "I've had far worse than this." She rotated her hand so the back faced the court and extended her arm to display the script.
"Mr. Potter," Minerva glanced at Harry, who seemed rather stunned, and asked, "How many times did Dolores Umbridge have you write that line?"
"I…I don't know exactly, Professor."
"Then make a reasonable guess, Mr. Potter," Madam Bones instructed.
"At least a hundred and fifty times, I think," replied Harry.
"Mr. Jordan?" solicited Madam Bones.
"Less than Harry, Madam Bones, but probably close to one hundred," said Jordan.
Addressing the students, Madam Bones posed, "How many of you underwent a similar punishment?" A couple of dozen hands shot into the air. Meanwhile, Umbridge rose and attempted to shuffle unobtrusively to the exit. She failed spectacularly.
"Remain where you are, Dolores," ordered Bones, gesturing to a pair of Aurors. "Auror MacDougal, Auror Mills, get this woman out of my sight and put her in a holding cell until I can issue a warrant based on the evidence I have just heard." The two Aurors seized Dolores' arms, marshaling her down the stairs as she entered into hysterical shrieking.
"No! No, get your hands off me! I am a member of the Ministry of Magic! Let go of me! They deserved it. Those brats! They needed to be punished, don't you understand? I'm not a criminal. They are! Those are the traitors!" Dolores screamed as she passed McGonagall and Harry. "Get off of me! I will have your jobs. Do you hear me! Leave me alone!" The riotous victory cheers of the students chased her out into the corridor as they sprang to their feet, stomping and clapping and generally making a great deal of noise.
"Ding dong! The Toad is dead! Which old Toad? The Wicked Toad! Ding Dong! The Wicked Toad is Dead!" Knowing very well that she should disapprove of their enthusiastic singing, Minerva bit her lower lip hard to keep from laughing. Still, she could not prevent a tiny upturn at the corners of her lips. Using his hand to muffle the sound, Jonathan managed to transform his laughter into a coughing fit. Among the staff, many of them had collapsed back into their seats, trying and failing to contain their amusement. Severus gave a longsuffering sigh, shook his head, and regarded the students as a visitor to the zoo idly inspects the animals. High above the floor, Albus hummed the tune, occasionally joining in at refrain. The rest of the chamber divided itself between staring in bewilderment and laughing outright at the students' display. Among the adults, particularly among the staff and the parents, many espoused a regret that they could not act in a similar fashion due to their supposed maturity. Some gave up the battle, surrendering to their juvenile sides.
When Minerva realized the song was being repeated, she intervened, calling out in an authoritative tone, "Students, I understand your excitement. However, this is not the time or the place. Please take your seats. Of course, once you leave this courtroom, you are free to express yourself as you choose." As the students complied, Minerva said, "Thank you. Madam Bones?"
"Thank you, Professor. In light of this recent evidence of child abuse and perjury, the Wizengamot is instructed to consider Dolores Umbridge an unreliable witness and judge the value of her testimony accordingly. Mr. Ashford, Professor McGonagall, do you have any other evidence of witnesses to present? If you do not, I will ask for a verdict."
"I would like to make a final statement, Madam Bones, but beyond that we have nothing else to present," answered Minerva.
"Very well, please make your –" began Bones, but Fudge interrupted her. Distinctly unsettled and nervous, fidgeting with his hands and bowler hat, Fudge appeared to have shrunk in upon himself.
"Madam Bones, this trial has already carried on too long already today. It's past five o'clock and, surely, the Wizengamot needs time to make such a weighty decision. I request that we halt the trial here and start again tomorrow," blurted out Fudge, the words tumbling over one another.
Bones consulted her own timepiece and asked, "In this one instance, I'm afraid the Minister is correct. However, I would be willing to finish this today if the defense insisted considering they have no further testimonies or evidence. Mr. Ashford? Professor McGonagall?"
Receiving a nod from Minerva, Jonathan stated, "Thank you for your offer, Madam Bones. However, in this case, Professor McGonagall and I are willing to indulge the Minister. We recognize that many in the Wizengamot and in the audience have families and other commitments which would make extending the trial today a hardship. We also do not want the Wizengamot to feel pressured to come to a decision quickly without giving the matter due consideration. Neither Professor McGonagall nor I desire a verdict made hastily in the heat of the moment. Tomorrow will be soon enough."
"Since both parties are in agreement, I declare a recess until nine a.m. tomorrow," proclaimed Madam Bones. "The Wizengamot is dismissed until that time."
"Not to count the chicks before they hatch, but I think we have won," remarked Jonathan as he walked next to McGonagall out of the room. "How is your hand?" For answer, Minerva showed Jonathan her hand. The lines had faded without leaving any trace of their existence.
"Perfectly healed," said Minerva, stepping aside to follow Auror Wright before the multitude reached them. "I will see you tomorrow. And I concur, I believe we have succeeded."
"Bloody right we have," avowed Jonathan as Minerva strode away. Once out of sight of Ashford and the crowd, Minerva allowed a small grin to form. Ding, dong! The Toad is dead! I really shouldn't enjoy that little ditty quite as much as I do. I did warn you, Dolores. You simply refused to listen.
Reading by lamplight in the library, Minerva raised her head at the knock on the front door. Through the half open doorway, she saw Auror Wright brush by to answer it. After a moment's conversation, Auror Wright returned and entered with Auror Mills.
"Professor McGonagall, Mr. Mills is here to replace me. Do you need anything before I leave?"
"No, thank you, Mr. Wright. Goodnight," replied Minerva.
"Goodnight, Professor," said Wright before gathering his things and departing.
"I'll stay out of your way, Professor," Mills assured her.
"Thank you, Mr. Mills. I appreciate that."
Pausing at the door, Mills said, "They were ready to acquit you today. Why did you agree to the delay? You could have been back at Hogwarts by now."
"As Mr. Ashford noted, we did not want to rush the Wizengamot into a decision. Beyond that Mr. Mills, it costs me very little while allowing us to be courteous to our opposition."
"I think I understand, Professor. Well, I'll be in the office." He held up a stack of folders. "When I became an Auror, I failed to realize how much paperwork is involved."
"Good luck, Mr. Mills."
"Thank you," replied Mills, gently closing the door behind him. With a rueful smile at the thought of the paperwork no doubt awaiting her return to Hogwarts, Minerva resumed reading. By the books alone, Minerva deduced that the house had once belonged to Muggles. Few Wizarding households would have Le Guin's The Left Hand of Darkness. Estraven and Genly Ai were in the midst of crossing the perilous and deadly Gobrin Ice when the sound of voices drew Minerva's attention out of the page. Who on earth could that be? I don't believe it is Jonathan, but I think I recognize at least one of the speakers.
"Mr. Mills?" Minerva called, exiting the library and traversing the short hallway to the darkened living room. Mills stood in the kitchen niche with Dawlish and a wizard wearing the robes of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad who Minerva could not immediately identify in the poor light. Uneasiness crept down her spine; the scene triggered a pervasive sense of foreboding. She treaded warily into the center of the room. "Good evening, gentlemen. May I ask why you are here?"
"Now!" shouted Dawlish. Lightening blasted from the tips of their wand whipping and crackling towards her.
Minerva dodged, but not quite fast enough. Pain exploded from her shoulder, the electric shock ripping through her body, seeking the ground. Barely conscious, Minerva staggered, managing to clutch at a sofa to keep herself upright and moving. Groping blindly along her collar, Minerva's fingers grasped the brooch and flung it away from her even as another curse stuck her. She fell hard, striking the edge of a table.
A third arc of pain seized her. Struggling for breath and staving off the void threatening to consume her, Minerva reached deep inside for her magic. To her dismay, the wall inhibiting her power was crumbling far too slowly, only a slender trickle seeping through the dam. Damn it! I need time!
"Don't be fooled by impressive magic. The best duelists can make the simplest spells into weapons. Imagine turning the ground beneath your enemy's feet to slippery ice or causing their sleeves to knot themselves together. If nothing else, simple spells can distract your enemy and buy you time!" Crystal clear, the words echoed from the recesses of her memory.
"Accio!" Minerva cried with every scrap of power she had available, agony preventing any hope of specific targeting. Vases, potted plants, books, china, and chairs flew through the air, slamming into the wizards with force and into heavier objects or walls, scattering jagged shards of glass and porcelain. Minerva barely managed a weak Shield to protect herself. Yet, she knew it wouldn't hold up against those curses.
The Squad member had been knocked out, but Minerva saw the shadowed figures of the two Aurors getting to their feet. A fourth strike deprived her of oxygen and convulsed her muscles. Between flashes of blackness, Minerva perceived Dawlish raising his wand again.
Immobilized almost completely by pain and the spasms quaking her body, Minerva twisted her right hand, palm facing the Aurors and shoved. They hurtled backwards, crashing into the wall and thudding onto the floor, unconscious.
Minerva neither heard nor saw their impact. Oblivion engulfed her, casting her deep into the abyss.
Author's Note 2: I am not a doctor. Feel free to moan and groan at any inaccuracies or email me to correct them.
Continuing the experiment (since it seemed to work last chapter)…
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