Disclaimer: I own nothing. Paragraphs 46-48 were taken directly from OOTP, copyright JKR/Warner Bros/whoever the hell owns HP now. Therefore and thusly, I make no attempt in claiming these spectacular examples of literary perfection as mine.
Harry Potter and the Dream Come True
Chapter 14 – The Trial
"So remind me again why we can't just use the Diagon Alley entrance?" Harry enquired in annoyance as his father ushered him into an old telephone box on a deserted Muggle street in downtown London. "I mean, no offense, but this just doesn't seem as… I dunno… glamorous."
"This is the visitor's entrance," Sirius explained for the umpteenth time. "The way we got in last time was for Ministry officials who can't or don't want to apparate."
"But I'm not a Ministry official! So why was I allowed through?"
James snorted. "Because you were accompanied by a man who'd supposedly been dead for fourteen years. The poor woman operating the entrance must've had a heart attack seeing me."
"Ever the modest one, our dear James," Sirius remarked airily, to which James faked punching him in the head. Harry mentally rolled his eyes. It was a good thing there was no one around, because they'd be eternally scarred by the sheer moronity of James and Sirius's bickering.
A cheerful voice snapped Harry out of his musings.
"Welcome, visitor, to the-"
"Yeah, yeah, we know. Sirius Black and James Potter, here to escort Harry Potter to his trial," Sirius interrupted the recorded voice.
"Thank you. Visitors are required to present their wand-"
"We get it," Sirius repeated with particular emphasis, while James typed in the code 62442 into the telephone dial. As the telephone (or rather, the lift) descended downwards, Sirius fished a badge out of the coin slot and stuck it on Harry's bottle green robes. Harry had questioned earlier if he should wear the robes, as they were decidedly Slytherin in appearance, but James had scoffed at the notion and reminded him that green "brought out his eyes", to which Harry had rolled his eyes.
With a shudder, the lift ground to a halt, and Harry found himself staring out at the entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic. The peacock blue ceiling stretched endlessly overhead, shining brightly from the golden symbols dancing across it. Sirius studied the roof for a moment, and nodded at James, who gave his son a pat on the shoulder, and swept off down a side corridor. Harry and Sirius headed towards a wizard sitting behind a large desk that was situated beside a large pair of golden doors (which Harry assumed led to the other areas of the ground floor level). The wizard sniffed, and grabbed Harry's wand before he could stop him.
The wizard placed the wand on a peculiar set of scales, waited a moment, and then handed it back. "You take this," he droned, "and I keep this." He tore off a strip of paper that shot out from the scales, and held it up for the pair to see.
"Holly, phoenix feather, 11 and a half inches? Been in use for four years?"
"That's right," Harry confirmed. The man slipped the parchment into a drawer, and looked about ready to fall asleep right then and there, before he noticed the name on the slip of parchment.
"Hang on…" the wizard said slowly. "Are you-"
"Say 'Harry Potter,' and I will hex you into oblivion, Eric," Sirius growled softly. "We're trying to keep a low profile here." Eric flinched, giving Sirius the opportunity to snatch the paper out of his hands, and discreetly aim his wand at the official's face. "I trust you won't be telling anyone about this little encounter?"
Eric blanched, both at the wand in Sirius's hand and the tone of his voice. "Absolutely! Not, I mean! So sorry to have disturbed you!" he squeaked nervously. Sirius gave him a distrustful look, but eventually handed Eric back the slip of paper after a sharp jab to his side from Harry.
"Er… sorry about that," Harry called at the man as Sirius dragged Harry past. "It's the Firewhiskey, you know, does strange things to a person's head."
Eric didn't seem very comforted by the explanation.
They headed towards a row of golden doors, which presumably held lifts of some sort, judging by the sign overhead which read "Lifts". Sirius and Harry stepped into the nearest one, and Sirius gave the other occupants his best "I-am-an-insane-mass-murderer-fear-me" look, which had them fleeing the lift in droves. Sirius punched a button, causing the lift to shudder and start its descent.
"I reckon you could've been nicer to that man, Sirius," Harry informed his godfather, who growled in response.
"Yelling loud enough for the whole Ministry to hear, trying to attract attention, endangering my godson…" was Sirius's grumbled reply.
"Sirius! He wasn't endangering me! He was just doing his job…" Harry trailed off at the murderous expression on Sirius's face. "Never mind…"
"Morning, Arthur," James chirped happily as he swept into the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, where Arthur Weasley was seated at a desk, looking longingly at the side wall. "Still no window, then? Pity."
"Magical Maintenance claims our office still isn't important enough," Arthur sighed. "It was us who raided Malfoy's manner and found the hidden room under the Drawing room! Course, there wasn't anything incriminating under there – Malfoy probably knew we were coming and re-located his dark-arts things…" If James didn't know better, he'd have sworn Arthur was a bit put out by the whole affair.
"Hey, no worries!" James said cheerfully. "I'm an Auror – one of the best – remember? I'll just pull a few strings, call in a few favors, and you'll have a window in no time!" Arthur eyed him suspiciously.
"Who are you, and what have you done with James Potter? Why are you so happy this early in the morning, especially on the day of your son's trial? And speaking of Harry, shouldn't you be with him right now?"
James flopped into a chair beside the balding red-head. "The trial's not for an hour, so I thought I'd pop down here and surprise him with some doughnuts. You Misuse of Muggle Artifacts guys always have doughnuts."
Arthur sighed and shook his head.
"You're forgetting that this is fourteen years in the future, James. Fudge doesn't approve of doughnuts, on the grounds that they were originally designed by Muggles, so he banned them from the building."
"WHAT? But that's… that's…"
"Bad? Awful?"
"Pure evil," James declared righteously. "That man is pure evil. Oh boy is he going to hear it from me."
Through the door swooped a pale violet paper airplane, executing fantastic twirls in the air until it lost its balance and crash landed on the desk. Chuckling, Arthur unfolded the memo and read it through quickly. Judging by the way his face went completely white, James figured the news wasn't good.
"Quick, man, what time is it?"
James stared at him. "Er… why?"
"Because according to my watch, Harry's hearing started five minutes ago. Fudge changed the time of the hearing, and he's moved it down to the old Courtroom 10!"
James jumped up from his chair. "What? That's insane! Why would he do that?"
Arthur was equally panicked. "I don't know! Oh, this is bad… if Harry makes them wait too long, they'll automatically pronounce him guil-"
James raised a warning finger.
"Don't say it," James snapped. Scrambling to his feet, he barreled out of the office and sprinted off down the hall towards the Auror's headquarters. Almost at the golden lift, James was taken by surprise when the doors opened, forcing him to collide rather painfully with Sirius, who was just stepping out. Harry watched the pair with poorly disguised amusement.
"What the hell?" Sirius demanded, dragging himself and James upright. "You were supposed to acquire some sort of sustenance, not bowl me over!"
Then he noted the panicked expression on his friend's face. "What's wrong?" James wordlessly shoved the memo at his friend, grabbed Harry, and jumped back into the lift, whose doors were closing.
What on earth is going… Sirius blinked. Oh. Crap. With that thought, Sirius chucked the letter aside, cursed furiously, magicked the doors of the second lift open, and jumped in, seriously frightening the few people inside. If James was planning dear Minister Fudge's murder, he'd better watch out, because he definitely had competition.
James and Harry burst out of the elevator, trying desperately to reach the courtroom as quickly as humanly possible, James cursing Fudge the whole time. They ran down the hall of the Department of Mysteries, but instead of going through a plain black door at the end of the corridor, James led them down a narrow staircase to the side, which apparently led to an even lower level.
"This… is… ridiculous…" Harry gasped as they rounded the corner, slowing down so that James could figure out which door to go through. "Why didn't Fudge notify us of the change?"
"He did," James said as he eyed the numbers on the doors carefully. "But I imagine he sent said notification to us late on purpose, just so he could have the satisfaction of watching you miss your trial. Eight, nine… ten. This is it, Harry. Go on in, do your best, tell the truth… you know what to do."
Harry whirled to face his father. "I thought you and Sirius were coming in with me!"
James sighed, looking furiously over his shoulder.
"We are, as soon as Padfoot catches up. He's got all the evidence on him, you know. Not that we have a lot of it, to tell you the truth."
"He wouldn't have to catch up if we hadn't closed the lift doors on him," Harry reminded his father innocently. James scowled, checked his watch, and propelled Harry towards the courtroom door.
"Hurry! We'll see you in a minute, so try not to get yourself expelled and imprisoned before that, alright? Good luck."
"Imprisoned?" But James was already gone back up the corridor.
Sighing, Harry opened the door and stepped inside the courtroom. His immediate reaction was to gasp in shocked recognition - he could not help himself. The large dungeon he had entered was horribly familiar. He had not only seen it before, he had been here before. This was the place he had visited inside Dumbledore's pensieve, the place where he had witnessed the Lestranges sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban.
The walls were made of dark stone, dimly lit by torches. Empty benches rose on either side of him, but ahead, in the highest benches of all, were many shadowy figures. They had been talking in low voices, but as the heavy door swung closed behind Harry an ominous silence fell.
A cold male voice rang across the courtroom. "You're late."
Harry jumped, startled. He knew that voice – Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic. How long ago had Fudge regarded him with a fatherly smile and a pat on the back? How quickly opinions could change in the space of one year.
Harry cleared his throat, put on his "Golden Boy" face and attitude his guardians taught him, and replied smoothly, "I only received the memo of the time change five minutes ago."
"That is not the fault of the Wizengamot." Fudge barked, and now that Harry's eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he could make out the rest of the members of the "Wizengamot". He didn't recognize a single face, except for Percy Weasley's, who Harry worked mightily not to glare at.
"Of course it isn't," Harry replied, "I just thought you should be informed of the inadequacy of your Ministry memos."
Oh, nicely done, he berated himself furiously Way to insult the Ministry before the trial's even started!
"That is none of your concern," Fudge snapped. "Now please take your seat, Mister Potter." Harry turned to the chair in the center of the room, its arms covered in lengths of chain. He could remember how the chains had wrapped themselves around the Lestranges and Barty Crouch's arms when they'd had their hearings. Harry gulped, but took his seat nonetheless, barely suppressing a sigh of relief when the chains did not bind his arms to the chair. He turned his attention back to Fudge, who was clearly impatient to begin the hearing.
"Well, now that the accused is finally here, we can begin. Disciplinary hearing on the second of August, into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statue of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey-"
"Actually," Harry interrupted, unable to contain himself, "I live at my dad's house now, you know, at the Potter manor. I left Privet Drive about three weeks ago."
Fudge glowered at him, but gestured to Percy to correct the mistake. Percy was holding a roll of parchment and a quill, so Harry guessed he was taking notes on the trial or something to that effect. Beside Fudge sat a stern looking woman wearing a monocle, and on the other side, a rather short, overweight witch who reminded Harry strongly of a toad.
"If you are done correcting me, Potter? Thank you. Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley-"
"Witness for the defense, James Joseph Harold Andrew Potter-" James announced dramatically, striding boldly into the room as if he were used to having all eyes on him. Which, Harry supposed, he was.
"- and Sirius Orion Black," Sirius added, trudging along behind his friend with a homicidal glint in his eyes. "Next time you decide to change the time of a hearing simply to discredit Harry, Fudge, at least try to do it in a semi-intelligent way."
Fudge scrunched up his face as if he'd just swallowed something particularly sour. "You are out of line, Black. I am the Minister for Magic, and your comments are entirely-"
"Truthful?" Sirius inquired cheekily, conjuring up two puffy armchairs beside Harry's chair, which looked to be infinitely more comfortable than the stone benches the Wizengamot members sat upon. Indeed, several of the witches and wizards eyed Sirius and James with envy.
"Incidentally," James added, "the Potters have always held a seat in the Wizengamot. Why exactly was I not invited to attend this trial?" A few people shifted uncomfortably, and Fudge seemed at a loss. The stern looking witch frowned at Fudge.
"I thought you said James Potter was too busy to attend, Cornelius?"
Fudge flushed. "Well… I must have been misinformed, I suppose. Terribly sorry, Amelia…" The witch didn't seem too pleased with this breach of protocol, but proceeded nonetheless.
"The charges, if you please, Cornelius?"
Fudge extracted a scroll from his pocket, unrolled it, cleared his throat, and began reading in an annoyingly pompous voice. "That he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, on the thirty-first of July, which constitutes an offence under Paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks Statue of Secrecy- "
"Hold on a minute," James interrupted hotly, "but on what grounds are you claiming my son violated the Statue of Secrecy? There were no Muggles in the area, so there is technically no breach!"
Fudge smirked, causing James and Sirius's blood to boil. "Ordinarily, no, there wouldn't be a breach, but Mr. Potter's… Patronus – if you can even call such a pitiful attempt a Patronus – lit up the surrounding sky briefly, as all Patroni generally do. Any Muggle would have noticed a silver glow if they'd been in the area, and there is no proof that there were no Muggles in the area."
"That's ridiculous!" Sirius protested. "If there's no proof over the existence of Muggles in the area, then you can't charge him for that! You have no solid proof!"
Fudge grinned triumphantly. He really seemed to be enjoying winning an argument against James and Sirius in public – God alone knows why. "Madam Bones?"
Amelia Bones cleared her throat. "Ah, yes, well, gentlemen, Mr. Fudge vouches for the close proximity of Muggles at the time of Mr. Potter's alleged crime. The Minister's word is law, to a certain extent, so the charge of the violation of the Statue holds," she stated firmly, fixing James and Sirius with a stern stare. They sighed simultaneously, gave Harry an apologetic glance, and resumed their seats.
"You are Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?" Fudge said, glaring at Harry over the top of his parchment. Harry returned the glare happily.
"Didn't we already cover this? I am Harry James Potter of… well, I don't actually know the number, but of Potter Manor, wherever the hell that is."
"Language, Mr. Potter," Madam Bones snapped, causing Sirius to wince.
"Bloody Hell, woman, you sound like my mother. Or at least, what I think she would have sounded like if she weren't a prejudiced monster."
The look Amelia Bones leveled at the Animagus was enough to send the man into an abrupt and slightly fearful silence. There were few things that could silence Sirius, and it seemed one of these things was Amelia Bones.
Fudge sniffed, but signaled Percy to amend the official record. "Fine. You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?"
"Yes, but-"
"And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the thirty-first of July?"
"Yes, but-"
"Knowing that you are not permitted to use magic outside school while you are under the age of seventeen?"
"Yes, but-"
"Knowing that you were in an area full of Muggles?"
"Yes, but I only used it because-"
The witch with the monocle cut across him in a booming voice. "You produced a fully-fledged Patronus?"
"Yes, because-"
"A corporeal Patronus?"
"Yes. It's a stag, it's always a stag."
"Always?" boomed Madam Bones, "You have produced a Patronus before now?"
"Yes," Harry repeated, getting slightly annoyed. "I've casting it for over a year now, possibly two."
"And you are fifteen years old? You learned this at school?"
"Yes, Professor Lupin taught me-"
"Impressive," Madam Bones said approvingly. "A corporeal Patronus at his age… very impressive." Some of the witches and wizards around her were muttering again; a few nodded, but others were frowning and shaking their heads. James and Sirius looked very pleased, and were regarding Amelia Bones with much more respect than before.
"It's not a matter of how impressive the magic was," Fudge cut in, "it's the fact that he broke the Reasonable Restriction-"
Harry could stand this no longer. He hadn't survived the Dursleys for fourteen years, seen his dead father come back to life, or seen his innocent godfather freed, just to sit here as these idiots cut him off every time he tried to explain himself.
"I did it because of the Dementors!" he exclaimed, drawing the muttering courtroom's attention back to him.
"What do you mean, boy?" Madam Bones snapped.
"I mean there were two Dementors in that park that attacked me, and would have succeeded if I hadn't driven them off!"
Fudge chuckled, and then smirked unpleasantly. "Dementors, eh, boy? Thought that one up, did you, Harry? Maybe even got your father and godfather in on the deal, eh? Dementors in downtown London. Pah!"
"I'm not lying!" Harry said loudly, and at the same time James and Sirius leapt to their feet. Sirius seemed about to attack the Minister, but James nudged him, and Sirius sat down reluctantly, still fingering his wand.
"You forget yourself, Minister Fudge," James stated in a cold voice. "You can accuse my son of something he was perfectly allowed to do under our laws. However, you will not accuse myself or Sirius Black of making tales with no proof whatsoever. You are blindly pointing the accusing finger, Cornelius, with no evidence to back up your claims. You are also accusing two of your top Aurors-"
"-one of which whom you illegally placed in Azkaban for twelve years without a trial-" Sirius hissed.
"-with no proof. The public doesn't like it when their heroes are falsely accused. Ministers have been kicked out of office for that-"
"-and sometimes worse," Sirius concluded. Fudge gave him a confused frown, so Sirius mimed hanging himself at the neck. Fudge gulped nervously, and Harry had to bite back a laugh.
"Fine," Madam Bones snapped. "Minister Fudge redraws his accusation of James Potter and Sirius Black. Shall we continue?"
"Of course, Amelia dear," Sirius replied with a charming grin, causing Madam Bones to glower at him.
"When I taught you Potions for that short time in your fourth year, Black, I warned you not to call me that, on pain of death. That threat still holds to this day."
Sirius winced. "My mistake, Professor."
"Continuing along, then. Mr. Potter, unless you have proof of the existence of Dementors in Talon Park, this trial will conclude, and I must say that with no witnesses and no evidence, things aren't looking too good for you."
Harry was now extremely worried. He had no proof that the Dementors had been in the park! With no evidence, he would lose the trial for sure. Harry couldn't even imagine what it would be like, sitting at home while his friends went off to Hogwarts…
A quick, nervous glance over to Sirius and James revealed the two men leaning towards each other and whispering quietly. They appeared quite frustrated, unfortunately, which Harry took to be a bad sign.
Well, this is it, Harry thought miserably. Azkaban, here I come.
"Well?" Fudge demanded triumphantly. "You don't have any witnesses, it seems. If that's the case, then we can continue-"
"I'm afraid that won't be necessary," a firm voice interrupted calmly, and Harry swiveled around to see Albus Dumbledore – his salvation, hopefully – entering the courtroom. The old man's blue eyes twinkled, and he gave a slight nod to Harry, although failing to meet his eyes. Harry was too nervous at the moment to care, however, so he disregarded the lack of eye contact.
"Dumbledore," Fudge stated flatly. "Got our letter about the time change, did you?"
"I must have missed it," he replied cheerfully. "Luckily I was at the Ministry three hours early, or else I sadly would have missed Mr. Potter's trial. And we all know what a disaster that would have been."
The members of the Wizengamot muttered amongst themselves. Madam Bones cleared her throat. "Exactly why, precisely, would that be a disaster, Albus?"
He smiled serenely at the stern woman, and flourished a stack of papers he was carrying in one hand, attracting the attention of the Wizengamot. With his other hand, behind his back, he made a strange gesture in James and Sirius's direction that Harry didn't understand. The two nodded, and James ever so inconspicuously reached into his robes, withdrawing something rather small that Harry couldn't make out. Harry grimaced. This couldn't be a good sign.
"What are those papers, Albus?" Madam Bones inquired impatiently, while at the same time Fudge snapped, "Can we please get on with this?"
Dumbledore flourished the papers once more, cleared his throat, and began to speak.
"From what I understand, Mr. Potter is being tried for using illegal underage magic in a Muggle-inhabited area." Madam Bones nodded for him to continue. "And he claims that he used the spell to fend off two Dementors."
"Where exactly are you going with this summary, Dumbledore?" Fudge demanded in annoyance. Dumbledore merely gave him another serene smile, and continued.
"It seems to me that the easiest way to determine Mr. Potter's innocence would be for him to replay the events – and I happen to have a pensieve on hand that would do rather nicely."
Harry's heart leapt – he could relive the event, and prove his innocence! Fudge didn't seem so sure, however. "But the boy could simply make up an event, and put that into the pensieve. Even a made up event can be placed in a pensieve, you know. It would be a simple matter for Potter to deceive us all with a carefully crafted memory that never happened!"
A slight twitch of Dumbledore's finger brought James and Sirius to their feet.
"That is why, with Harry's agreement, of course, we can deliver a mild mind-control potion to him that will prevent that sort of thing from happening. Making up an event, I mean," Sirius explained, as James presented the small object he'd retrieved from his pocket to Madam Bones. It was apparently a flask holding Sirius's "mind-control" potion.
She looked surprised at the offer, but since there was no rule specifically prohibiting this, she could see no reason not to continue. Fudge opened his mouth in outrage, but was silenced by a stern look from Madam Bones, as well as a few carefully chosen words. "You may be the Minister, Cornelius, but I am in charge of this hearing." He grudgingly accepted her words, and slumped back down into his chair, muttering angrily under his breath. Harry noticed the toad-like woman beside Fudge lean forward slightly, and whisper something to him, which calmed Fudge down immeasurably.
"Right," James whispered, kneeling down beside Harry with the bottle of mind-control serum, while Sirius and Dumbledore took it in turns explaining the strength and effects of the potion to the Wizengamot, some of whom had little knowledge when it came to Potions. "You heard what Sirius said. This is a mild mind-control potion – it won't hurt one bit, believe me – so all you need to do to prove your innocence is drink it down. And make sure not to fight it! If you do, I'll know, and therefore so will the rest of the Wizengamot. Don't be afraid."
Harry glared at him indignantly. "I'm not afraid! I just want to get this stupid trial over with!"
"Shhh! Keep your voice down! Look, just drink this and we're done. Oh, and try to show only the events pertaining to this trial – if the Ministry finds out about the Order, we're all in serious trouble."
"Sirius trouble?" Harry joked weakly, and James couldn't help but grin.
"That's the spirit, kid. Now, drink up." James tilted the liquid into Harry's mouth, and Harry felt the smooth concoction slide down his throat. Suddenly, the room began to grow fuzzy, and Harry once again felt the contentment that only comes from being mind-controlled.
.:Put your wand to your temple:. a voice – his father's voice – instructed. .:Do it:.
Harry fought down the urge to resist the potion, and instead gave himself over to the potion, doing as he was told.
.:Remember the night of July 31. Remember the Dementor attack:. the voice instructed, .:Send these thoughts into your wand. Visualize these thoughts leaving your head. Now put these thoughts in the basin:.
So this is how you work a Pensieve, Harry thought in interest as he stiffly followed the instructions, placing the silvery strand into the Pensieve. His father removed the Pensieve as Sirius administered the antidote. The world came back into focus abruptly.
As he sat in the chain-covered chair, Harry watched as the Wizengamot viewed his thoughts. By the end of the scene, all mouths were open in shock, and by Sirius's broad grin, it was clear that Harry had won his case. Now it was a simple matter of ending the trial and sending everyone home.
Madam Bones stood up shakily. The thought of Dementors either outside Ministry control, or attacking citizens under Ministry control was obviously quite unnerving, and the majority of the Wizengamot agreed. "Well, after that convincing piece of evidence, it has come to a final vote. All those who believe Potter is guilty?"
Four or five people raised their hands, among them Fudge and the toad-like witch, who Harry decided that he definitely did not like. Hang on… five hands raised… that meant Harry had won the trial!
"And those who believe Potter is innocent of all charges?" The remainder of the Wizengamot raised their hands, including James, who was staring Madam Bones challengingly.
"Alright," she said, "5 votes for conviction, 54 ag-… oh, very well, Mr. Potter, you've made your point. Fifty-five votes against. Mr. Potter… Harry, I mean, is officially cleared of all charges."
The Wizengamot immediately swarmed towards the exit, chattering happily and paying little attention to Harry. Indeed, their attention was focused more on James and Sirius.
"Good defense, Potter, Black, quite good, I say. How are things these days, eh? Rejoined the Auror forces yet?"
"Appalling, isn't it? Forgetting to invite you to the trial, you being a part of the Wizengamot and everything!"
"Simply appalling!"
"Someone ought to do something about it."
"Yes, but with that bumbling idiot Fudge in charge…"
Harry waited impatiently as James and Sirius politely answered the flood of comments directed their way, cool and collected as always. Okay, James's were narrowing at an alarming rate, and Sirius was developing an agitated tick in his forehead, but at least they weren't attacking the crowd. Not yet, anyway.
The only people not chatting up James and Sirius were Fudge and the toad-lady, who simply swept past, noses high in the air. Harry's dislike for the duo increased. Who did they think they were? He turned his attention back to James, who was being questioned on his Auror status.
"-and with the rumors of Voldemort's return going around, although they're supposed to be just that, rumors, well, shouldn't all the Aurors be called in? I mean, you and Mr. Black are registered Aurors – shouldn't you be going back to work? I mean, call of duty and all that…"
"Well," James explained, "the fact is that Minister Fudge is trying to quench the rumors of Voldemort's return, and I'm not too sure I like that."
"Are you saying Fudge is lying? Has Voldemort returned? Would you quit if Fudge continues denying His return?"
James stared at the questioner in annoyance. "Look, m'am, I'm not really at liberty to say. But if you're really that eager for gossip, then yes, I probably will quit the Auror force, Voldemort or no." A chorus of shocked what?s sprang up from the Wizengamot members. Sirius grinned, causing James to groan.
"He's been gone for fourteen years, my friends. Is it such a crime to take a little time off to spend some time with his one and only son?" Sirius demanded, knowing it would get a reaction from the crowd, which it did, of course. A group of women began gushing about how wonderful a father James was, two men gruffly patted James on the back and stated they understood completely, etc.
James tapped Sirius on the shoulder, and whispered, "Code Stag". It was a secret code from their school days – Code Stag had meant James wanted to get away, usually to spend time with Lily Evans, although it didn't have to be that specific. Nodding shortly, Sirius began speaking in loud, carrying tones, attracting everyone's attention to him. As Sirius entertained the crowd with a detailed account of James's rebirth, James grabbed Harry and the pair snuck out of the courtroom.
Once they'd successfully escaped the room, James pulled Harry into a hug. "Congratulations, son. Cleared of all charges. Well done."
Harry grinned. "Well, it wouldn't have turned out that way, had you not been there."
"Yes, well, be that as it may…" James protested modestly, causing both to laugh, seeing as James was anything but modest. As they walked back up the staircase leading to the Department of Mysteries level, the two discussed what to do with the rest of their summer. Just as Harry was voicing the idea of practicing more often the Animagus transformation (in low tones, of course), they rounded the corner and came face to face with Lucius Malfoy, who was speaking quietly with Minister Fudge.
They eyed Malfoy and Fudge suspiciously, but before Harry could say anything, James grabbed his son and dragged him sideways into the golden lift. As James pushed the button to the Atrium, Harry demanded, "Why was Malfoy in the Department of Mysteries? He had no business being there – he isn't on the Wizengamot, is he?"
"No, and he doesn't work in the Department of Mysteries either," James agreed, frowning.
"Maybe he was trying to sneak a glimpse of my trial?" Harry offered, to which James nodded his head absently.
"Possibly… but there could be another reason. I can't believe Dumbledore was right…" James muttered. This grabbed Harry's attention.
"What was Dumbledore right about?" Harry demanded. This snapped James out of his musings.
"What? Oh, nothing… nothing…"
Harry tried to get more information out of his father, but James completely clammed up, and after a few minutes of one-sided conversation, Harry gave up, spending the rest of the trip home in silence. He really wished his father would trust him enough to tell him what was going on.
Then again, he thought as he sank down into a comfy chair in the Potter Manor sitting room, in all likelihood I'll figure out what's going on before the year is over. I always find out what's going on in the end, after all.
With that comfortable thought, Harry's eyes closed slowly as weariness overtook him.