Fawkes had transported the kids to their individual rooms, and Hermione, Neville, and Colin had found me while I waited in the common room for the snake and its unknown master to leave. Once I sent a patronus to McGonagall, she had found the headmaster in his office, his incapacitation giving her access, the phoenix sadly guarding the old man's paralyzed form. She had apparently elected to have Madam Pomfrey check him there rather than risk an attack on him in the infirmary.

If the professors made a plan, they hadn't included me further. I'd missed dinner, and was on the train back to London in the morning for spring break. McGonagall had asked me to keep the headmaster's indisposition quiet, but the rumors of what had happened had spread quickly up and down the train, and my refusal to answer about why the headmaster wasn't at breakfast was seen as answer enough.

I probably should have just flooed directly back to Remus' house, rather than doing it from the fireplace at King's Cross.

As I stepped out of the fire with no luggage and just two weeks' worth of clothes in my bag of holding, I wound up interrupting Remus in a makeout session on the couch, the hair of the girl underneath him a more lush pink than her usual. "Good job, team," I told Tonks.

"Where did the time go?" Remus said, embarrassed, obviously not expecting me back yet.

"Wotcher, Harry!" Tonks grinned, unembarrassed about being caught, clothing still on but extremely manhandled.

"We've got trouble," I told them as Remus hastily adjusted his own clothing back into position. "The headmaster got paralyzed by the basilisk last night. Whoever's controlling it was going after him, and now there's nothing in between him and the school. Or me. Plus…"

"...No Chief Warlock at the Wizengamot on Friday," Remus finished for me. Spiking Umbridge's anti-werewolf legislation suddenly seemed like a much less important problem, but it would be a lot harder without Dumbledore orchestrating it from his position of authority over the court.

That was like a bucket of cold water on Tonks' libido that my arrival hadn't been. "I'll check with Moody," she said, professionalism snapping into place and heading for the fireplace. After a hasty conversation, she pulled her head out of the fading green flames and explained, "He says the Order's scrambling, but we'll just have to proceed as planned at the Wizengamot. Seems like nobody was prepared for Dumbledore to be incapacitated?"

"His penchant for micromanagement was another reason I wasn't deeply invested this last decade," Remus admitted.

Ultimately, after a week of furious planning among the members of the Old Crowd who were invested in Dumbledore's political agenda, I was escorted to the Ministry by Moody. It just made more sense, in case anyone that recognized Remus knew about his secret. We flooed in Friday morning bright and early, the Ministry, like most bureaucracies, one of the few magical institutions that cared about the clock. The old auror was right behind me out of the floo, and staggered into my back as he exited, mis-planting his prosthetic leg. "Sorry about that Dresden," he grumbled, pushing against me to stand back up, "Constant vigilance."

"No worries," I told him, re-situating my robes and belt where he'd shoved me.

The atrium was much busier than it had been when I'd visited over the winter, robed individuals all entering from numerous fireplaces, swarming past the incredibly tacky giant golden statue of a wizard lording it over the other magic races, and nearly overwhelming the intake clerks. At least most of the crowd was regulars and had badges, but I had to stop at the wand scanning station. This time, I'd brought a "wand" to make it easier.

"Phoenix feather core and… unicorn horn!?" the clerk's eyes widened, checking the output of his scan.

"I made it myself," I smiled. It wasn't really a wand, but had a much more similar form factor than my rod or staff, both of which I'd reluctantly left at home. If I needed them in the Ministry, we were in even bigger trouble (which, I had argued and lost, was exactly why I should bring them).

"I've linked it to your records, Mr. Dresden," the man agreed, passing it back with some reverence. If Dawlish kept banging the drum that I was a dark wizard, being on record as having a unicorn horn wand should make it harder to convince anyone.

I took my temporary badge and Moody walked me to an elevator that took us down a level to the Department of Mysteries, and then for some reason we had to take stairs down another level and walk through a labyrinthine passageway to get to the courtroom used for Wizengamot sessions. Maybe it was an ancient security measure to keep prisoners from escaping?

The room itself was about what you'd expect this deep in a dungeon: a large, rough-hewn cavern of dark stone lit by torchlight. It was almost certainly the most secure chamber of this size in the country, but the bleakness of the surroundings probably had a lot to do with why the laws in Britain were so backwards and mean-spirited.

It was already mostly full of what I assumed were the voting members, and Moody directed me over to benches near the podium at the front of the room with a few other witnesses. Among the Wizengamot members in the amphitheater seating, I recognized a few friends of Dumbledore, Lucius Malfoy, and, unfortunately, the senior Nott (who was almost certainly the Death Eater who kept trying to capture me). Moody withdrew to the side of the room, where other aurors were spaced out in guard positions. Dawlish scowled at me when I noticed him.

Shortly before the appointed 9 AM start time, the court quieted down as a procession entered, with Umbridge second (in lurid pink formal robes). I assumed that meant the portly little gray-haired man in front wearing pinstriped black and green robes was the Minister, Cornelius Fudge. I recalled I'd seen him at the Malfoy New Years' party, gossiping about Maeve's cover story. He took a place at the head of the podium above me, and the others filled the ministry's box of seats.

"Albus is currently incapacitated," Fudge explained, his voice carrying through the chamber even without obvious magic, since it wasn't that big and the acoustics were designed when architects didn't have speakers so took that kind of thing seriously. He gestured to an old man I didn't recognize sitting in a similarly prominent seat across the box, "So Tiberius will be sitting as Chief Warlock today. We all wish Albus a speedy recovery." Only a few people had seemed surprised at Dumbledore being missing even though it hadn't made the newspaper yet, the rumor mill obviously working as fast in the Ministry as at Hogwarts.

There was over an hour of boring business and minor votes that I couldn't have remembered even if someone had asked me an hour later, when they finally started calling witnesses for Umbridge's proposed law. A few people went before me, mostly citing statistics. Honestly, it turned out there weren't that many werewolves in the country, and it sounded like most of them were minor talents that I guessed would never have the sheer personal magic to fuel the curse into another Greyback.

Finally, in her simpering voice, Umbridge explained my presence to the courtroom. "Harry Dresden is a sixth-year at Hogwarts. He was attacked by Fenrir Greyback in two separate attempts on his life this year, and, in the second, Greyback was put down. Mr. Dresden?"

"Thank you, Madam Senior Undersecretary," I told her. Addressing the court from my seat in the witness stand, I summarized, "Greyback was after me to 'send a message.' In his second attack, he was with two men dressed as Death Eaters who had attacked me separately at school. I understand Greyback was also a servant of You-Know-Who in the war." I'd been carefully coached, and we figured out a way of laying out some serious implications without dragging Remus into the story. I was reticent about not just saying "Voldemort," but most of the British were really touchy about it.

"Why are former servants of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named after you?" one of Dumbledore's friends, Doge, piped up, as rehearsed.

"I'm not totally sure, sir. My former mentor, Justin DuMorne, died when a dark ritual he was trying to cast on me went wrong, and I think he may have secretly been an ally of You-Know-Who," Dawlish was red-faced against the wall, clearly about to scream at me, but he looked at Umbridge and clenched his mouth shut so hard I thought he was going to break his jaw. "They seem to want my blood or Headmaster Dumbledore's blood for some ritual related to being their dark lord's enemy."

I glanced at Nott, who seemed a little annoyed at the plot being laid out in front of the whole Wizengamot. He caught me watching and went stone-faced, with a slight sneer. Seated near him, Malfoy just seemed amused by the entire thing. "We may be slightly off topic, though we appreciate the context," Fudge interjected. "Mr. Dresden, what is your input on the proposed law?"

I nodded to the Minister, and explained, "I did a lot of research on werewolves after Greyback started hunting me. It's not really a disease, but a self-perpetuating curse. If you let it, it gradually eats away at your magic and soul, making you a terrifying physical combatant, but unable to really cast spells anymore. Even not on the full moon, Greyback was so wrapped in dark magic that spells and physical attacks just washed off of him like off of a troll. The only way we were able to stop him, was permanently."

"How did you stop him?" Malfoy asked.

I hadn't really been planning to give that up, but I didn't see the harm in it and admitted, "Inherited silver. Normal silver doesn't do much, but family heirlooms build up a resonance that can bypass the protections from the curse."

There was quite a murmuring, and Fudge instructed someone quietly, "Tell Mysteries to get on confirming that." He looked back up and said, "That may be very useful. Do you have more, Mr. Dresden?"

I nodded. This was the tricky part. "Do you know why many dark wizards can't cast a patronus?" I asked the auditorium, mostly rhetorically because even Remus hadn't seemed to understand. "It's not just because they have trouble having a happy memory. As part of some of my other research at school, we've learned that the patronus is soul magic. Using magic to kill, torture, and dominate isn't just unforgivable, it actually damages your spirit. The same as the werewolf curse does. Expecto Patronum!"

The audience gasped at my bit of theater as Mouse, my giant silver dog patronus, strode around the courtroom floor giving everyone a doggy grin, boosting spirits from the ambient energy of the spell.

"I personally support Senior Undersecretary Umbridge's legislation because I think it's a good first step to identifying the other monsters among us." I kept my voice raised so I wouldn't get shouted down while I stuck in the knife. "If we can detect and punish werewolves who have let their curse destroy their souls... it's an easy next step to identify dark wizards that have done the same thing."

As planned, the murmuring started. The members of the Light faction had big smiles at the idea, while there were several people near Nott and Malfoy that I assumed were members of the Dark that suddenly hated the idea. I wondered how many of them could cast a patronus.

It didn't take long after that for the legislation to bog down and start to unravel, since the Light started making very reasonable requests to add research into soul magic into the law for later use in punishing dark magic, and the Dark faction was clearly withdrawing their support of a law that they originally thought would just put the screws to werewolves now that it would set a bad precedent for them as well.

I caught Umbridge giving me the side-eye, and I figured she'd probably figured out that I'd tanked her law while seeming to support it. Ah, well, at least she probably couldn't prove anything. Malfoy was giving me a look, as well, that made me believe he'd have some things to say to me eventually about coming down so fully on the side of the Light.

"We clearly have a lot of committee work still to do before further considering this law," Fudge finally told the crowd. "Let's table it and move on. New business?"

Nott stood and said, "We need to know more about the Chief Warlock's 'incapacitation.' The rumor is that he was petrified by Slytherin's Monster, which has already struck against multiple students and the librarian. My son is at Hogwarts. If even their headmaster isn't safe there, the school should be closed until this threat can be located and eliminated!"

As the arguing started, I wondered why Voldemort's servant wanted the school scoured for the basilisk. But what if he didn't? What if he just wanted the school closed down? That would give them potentially free access to Hogwarts while Dumbledore couldn't monitor the wards.

And only McGonagall, as acting headmistress, stood between them and whatever they had planned…