April 1985
The crowds were back. Dumbledore side-stepped more supporters and protesters, but a group pushed against him once they realized who he was. They yelled in his face and pulled at his robes.
"You think you know what is best for muggle-borns?" A man spat at him. "That's what I think of your muggle-born students."
He had to stay in control. This was not the time or the place to say anything to these people.
They pushed him closer to the wall, so he apparaited across the room, where Arthur stood, looking desperate to get him away from these people.
The crowd he left in his wake yelled at him across the lobby. "You think you're better than us, Dumbledore? You're nothing but a blood traitor!"
Arthur took him by the shoulder. "They are really at it again today, seeing as you've got the second hearing."
"How have you managed with all of them?"
"The Ministry has been allowing us to apparate directly into our offices instead of the arrival lobby so we don't have to walk through them every day, and we've enchanted the hallways with noise-blocking spells. It isn't always as bad as today."
Dumbledore enjoyed the quiet that followed them as they left the lobby and walked down a hallway.
"What do you expect today?"
"Carrow will be given more time to make his case. Millicent will allow it, though I will press her for more time to be given to our side. I know she will eventually give us the time, but the delay is dangerous. We can't stretch out a vote for something this emotionally charged."
"I've made more notes on the act, just things I have thought about. I've sent a scribe to leave them in the dungeon at your seat. If you see him, please shake his hand. He's muggle-born and is very excited that you are against the legislation. His name is Bill, like my son."
"I would be honored," Dumbledore said.
They had reached the end of the hallway and passed the first section of staff offices. They stopped at the top of the staircase, where the veil of wards prevented Arthur from following him.
"Good luck," Arthur said.
Dumbledore smiled. "We are on the right side of this debate, Arthur. After much bickering, I know logic and justice will prevail. The Wizengamot will not fall victim to baseless prejudice. Have faith."
Dumbledore headed down the steps. He felt energized for the first time in weeks, as though he was ready to fight again. He would press Carrow harder, he would make sure he had more time to speak, to fight to stop giving this insane legislation any more time.
Barty Crouch and Cornelius Fudge walked ahead of him in the hallway. They turned when they heard him on the staircase.
"You're early, Albus," Fudge said.
"Today, yes," Dumbledore said, "but I would hate to make it a habit expected of me, so don't let on."
Barty smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "I wouldn't dream of it."
"How are you both?"
"I had the Prophet thrown at my head on the way in this morning, so I must be doing something right," Fudge said. He pushed open the doors of the dungeon.
And screamed.
Dumbledore and Crouch drew their wands. Dumbledore looked up. Floating in the air above the empty benches were four bodies. The head of each had been removed, but floated, with gruesome magical assistance, above blood-covered necks. The blood was thin, runny and fresh. It dripped down the torsos, along the legs, and dripped off the pointed ends of the still-tied shoes. The forehead of each body had an M crudely cut into it. The blood from the mark ran across dead eyes frozen open.
Based on the clothing, one of the bodies belonged to Bill, the muggle-born scribe. The others appeared to have been grabbed off the street.
Dumbledore chanted and used magic to pull Bill's body toward the ground. "Get them down!"
Dumbledore stood on a bench and pulled gently at the scribe's corpse when it was close enough to reach, catching the boy as he came down. He lowered the body to the ground in his arms. Everything he had pushed to the back of his head – the helplessness and rage – came back. The force built inside of him and the room shook. The glass covering the lit torches around the room exploded. Dumbledore let a fraction of the energy go. The dungeon doors blew apart and came off their hinges. The cage at the center of the room, used to hold wizards tried before the Wizengamot, exploded. Fudge and Crouch covered the corpses with their bodies as the pieces flew over them. Dumbledore exhaled and slammed his palms into the stone floor next to Bill's corpse.
Crouch closed the eyes of the woman he had pulled out of the air. "Should we have waited for the others to see?"
"No," Dumbledore said. He made himself breathe. If he didn't, he wouldn't be able to control what he did next. "No one should have ever had to see this."