Back in the cramped room where she had first been placed to wait, Hermione sat with her head resting on Ginny's shoulder, listening to the girl recount the events of the previous hour to her family and friends. Ginny left out many parts that she knew would unduly awaken images of Jacob's abuse in Hermione's mind, but she nonetheless managed to convey, to the awe of everyone gathered, the bravery and power of her friend's final stand.
Watching Molly's face redden beneath the stream of vulgarities Harry and Ron were unleashing upon Umbridge's name, Hermione let her mind wander among the countless worries trapped there. How many of the Wizengamot's members would have been swayed by the toad-woman's arguments? How many, never having found themselves frozen in bewildering terror, would question how one without magic had gotten the upper-hand over one of their own kind? How many would question her motives? Think her an expert Occulmens? Be caught up in Jacob's finely-tuned charms and smooth lies? Would it be enough to find him innocent? To release him and demand that she go along?
Shaking her memory free from the speeches of her court-tormenters, Hermione instead tried to focus on the last statements she, herself, had made. She had stood up to Jacob, and she had meant every word of it. He wouldn't touch her again, no matter what she had to do to make it so. And, she mused, looking once at the faces of Molly, Arthur, Tonks, Harry, Ron, and finally, at Ginny, no matter where that fight led her, she would never again have to take it up alone.
For once that day, at least, Hermione's eyes were dry.
An hour had passed, according to the chimes of the great clock in the entrance hall above them. Although all of the other expressions in the room wore an undershadowing of hoping for a swift verdict, Hermione knew that Umbridge of all people would do everything she could to prevent her from having that small grace.
She was surprised to see then, not three heartbeats later, the door to the chamber open and reveal a young page with wispy blonde hair. Looking directly at Hermione, the boy dipped into a bow and quietly announced, "They're ready for you, ma'am. The Wizengamot has reached a decision."
As he ducked back out, and Hermione apprehensively lifted her head from Ginny, she saw her other two friends shuffling their feet and offering her timid, awkward smiles of encouragement. "I want you there," she spoke firmly, turning first to the boys and then to Ginny's parents and Tonks, "I want all of you to be with me for whatever comes next."
Ten minutes later, Hermione settled herself into the highest back-bench of the dungeon courtroom, Ron and Ginny pressed close to her on both sides and the rest of her support-system flanking them and filling out the whole last row. Already the room had begun to go quiet, and she trained her eyes on her headmaster as he strode to front, raising his hands to dull the last few murmurs still resounding in the room.
"Jacob Henry Mattleby," he pronounced with the old edge of fury still lingering in his voice, "Stand and hear the decision reached by the Wizengamot on each of the charges laid upon you."
Hermione watched, could not help but watch, as Jacob did stand, without a hint of fear or hesitation. Coldly, he looked into the Chief Warlock's eyes, lifting his chin irritably as if he was considering challenging the frailer man to a bare-fisted duel.
"Mr. Mattleby," Dumbledore continued, unperturbed, "On the matter of arranging the deaths of Reginald and Matilda Granger, with premeditation and malevolence, this court finds you guilty."
Hermione let out a short, hard breath and felt Ginny's grip tighten on her arm as Dumbledore continued. "On the matter of inflicting harsh physical abuse upon their minor daughter, Hermione Granger, without cause or provocation, this court find you guilty. And, on the matter of forcing that same minor to unwillingly succumb to countless, degrading sexual acts with you, this court finds you guilty. What say you to these charges?"
His face still unmarked by a single line of worry, Jacob did not respond to Dumbledore, but addressed Hermione instead, his voice ruthless and bold. "Tell them, my pet, tell them that you made it all up. Tell them this instant that you were lying or I swear I shall . . ."
"YOU WILL NOT SPEAK TO HER!," Dumbledore roared, stepping in front of the prisoner and momentarily obstructing his view of the bench above.
"And you, old man, will not tell me what I can and cannot do!," Jacob heaved back, his face now contorted with anger. "This whole thing has been a mockery of justice, and I am a richer man than all of you conducting this charade. You wand-waving fools will be sorry, the moment I leave here and speak to my lawyers, the moment I go to the press with the details of this travesty. Your kind has no power over my kind, never has, and never will!"
"I think you will find, Mr. Mattleby," Dumbledore replied with a sad shake of his head, "That though some of us would not abuse our power by hurting others unnecessarily, that does not mean we have none." With that, he stepped aside and flicked his wand casually, strands of rope snaking out of it and binding Jacob's limbs in place and his mouth securely shut.
"Mr. Mattleby," Dumbledore continued, "you have been given your chance to address the charges against you, and you have taken it as leave to profess, not remorse, but more threats of violence. It has long been known among our kind that only the most evil of man could harden their souls to the act of murder. Yet still, it takes one of an even baser and more vile cut to turn that hardness against a mere child, to take a teenager into his bed by force and find pleasure in the screams of her dying innocence."
Pausing for only a second to let his words settle on the ears of those gathered, Dumbledore went on, "As time and time again you have threatened the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, you have left us no choice but to pronounce upon you a punishment that will protect this sacred law. In a moment, you will be led away from this court and taken to the lower-most dungeons of Azkaban prison. There you will live out the rest of your days, no matter their number, without an opportunity to appeal my decision. Furthermore," Dumbledore continued, "You will be fed and clothed meagerly by dementors alone, creatures whose nature you may not yet know, but who I assure you will show you only the same level of kindness that you once showed your own ward. And you will have no contact with any other living being--not by visit, nor call, nor post--until your breath has left you and your body is ready for the ground."
"So it is spoken, and so it shall be carried out," the Chief Warlock finished, striking the butt of his staff on the stone floor three times and then beckoning with his hand to the black-hooded figures in the corner who would take Jacob away.
It was with a glint of some warm new emotion that Hermione now witnessed the expression of fear overtaking her once-torturer's face. Tears of helplessness were now brimming in his eyes as he struggled to free himself from the scaly arms ferreting him from the room.
Then Jacob was gone, and Hermione, still reveling in the new hope which that knowledge spread inside of her, was as still as the rest of the room, listening to Dumbledore clear his throat and begin again.
"Arthur and Molly Weasley, please stand and be addressed by the court."
The red-headed couple obliged, their smiles overtaking even their wonderment at the unexpected request.
"Normally, as you know, a separate hearing would be held on the matter, but in the interest of remedying time already wasted, our decisions have been merged. Before this court has come a petition, signed by both your hands, which requests that Hermione Granger be placed under your guardianship until she reaches legal age. Does this document still represent your decisions?"
Both Weasleys nodded, and it was with a flush of pride that Molly proclaimed, "More than anything in this world!"
"Then it shall be so," Dumbledore decreed. "Excepting her time at Hogwarts, Miss Granger shall reside with you until her seventeenth birthday or another, later, time of her choosing. And so," the old man added boldly, "that your family will not want more for her care, Jacob Mattleby's assets shall be determined and converted into whatever Galleons they may yield, to pass into your possession as soon as may be arranged."
With that the old man bowed to the couple, released the court, and took his leave, giving one last proud, fatherly wink to Hermione.
It was only seconds before she heard the whoops of joy emanating from Harry and Ron's mouths, before she found all light and sound leaving the room as first Ginny and then the rest of her new family wrapped her up in an impossibly jumbled and tangled group hug.
Despite the press of limbs now restraining her from all sides . . . No, she thought, because of them, all of them, herself included, Hermione felt finally, and fully, free.