A/N: What's this? more? rejoice! Yes, there are a few more chapters, three in fact. It is however a three day weekend... the chapters, three days. Coincidence? I think not. anyway, other than the upcoming conclusion of this epic story, i had one other thing to address. Several folks have commented about ages and the tournament being in their fourth year. To this I merely point out that if you notice the dates, this is their Fifth year, not fourth. I changed that, adding teh slightly milder year of Hermione's adaption by Minerva to age them appropriately and set up a bit you'll see at the later. Hope that clarifies things for folks, so without further ado, on with the Story!
August 1, 1996
"Bring in the accused."
The hubbub of the vastly expanded Wizengamot chamber died down as Dumbledore spoke these fateful words, and the doors facing his bench opened. Waking in, their heads held high, were two teenagers. The first was tall, his dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and dressed very well. By his side, the girl's glorious brown hair was in an elegant braid, and her robes were exquisite. They were bound, hands behind their backs, and led to the accused podium at the center of the court.
"Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, you are accused of the planning and execution of the murder of one Tom Marvolo Riddle on June 24th, 1996. You are accused of dark sorcery, and of inference against the Ministry of Magic. How do you plead?"
"Not guilty." Harry's voice carried clear through the room. "I would request to face my accuser, as is my right."
"You have no rights, you filthy half-blood," a snarl came from his left, from the prosecution's bench. Harry turned to face the man. Seeing who it was, he turned back to Dumbledore who looked rather discomforted by the proceedings.
"Chief Warlock, how is it I am being accused by a criminal who should be in Azkaban? Lucius Malfoy was witnessed and caught at the site of a dark ritual to return the terrorist known as Lord Voldemort to life."
"Mr Malfoy is an upstanding member of our society and I shall not stand for you besmirching his name like that." Harry turned as he saw the Pink clad toad woman Umbridge huffing at him. "There was obviously a mistake and all charges were dropped."
"I see." Harry turned back to Dumbledore. "In that case, as he is innocent, he should have no issue swearing on his magic to that effect. Just to clear the air. I mean, Hermione here could say she's the queen of England, but that doesn't make it so."
Harry heard Hermione snort beside him, softly enough so only he could hear her. Turning to her, he smiled reassuringly.
"Absolutely not," cried the toad-witch. "There is no cause for that and it serves no purpose."
"Well, the charges against us are ridiculous as well," Harry pointed out. "According to the Minister himself, the dark lord Voldemort, born Tom Marvolo Riddle, was killed on October 31, 1981. How could I kill a man you've said was dead for fifteen years?"
"The testimony of one Peter Pettigrew, order of Merlin third class. Tom Riddle was the man you killed that night."
"Ah, Peter Pettigrew, the secret keeper and betrayer of my parents, the one supposedly killed by Sirius Black? The winner of a posthumous Order of Merlin? Where was he for the last fifteen years?"
"That is not the issue, this is about your crimes, not other citizens personal business," Malfoy drolled. "He is not the one who has broken the law here."
"Neither have I, and I'm willing to swear an oath on it. What about you?" Harry faced the man. "You have been accused of being a willing and loyal Death Eater, don't you want to clear your name once and for all? No? Don't know how to do it? Here, let me show you."
The magic suppression cuffs on Harry's wrists fell away, clanking to the floor. His arms swept around and grabbed his staff as it appeared before him. Ignoring the tumult around him, the spells of the aurors ricocheting off his shield and Umbridge bellowing to stop him, he began his oath.
"I, Harry James Potter, Duke of Gryffindor, do solemnly swear that I obeyed all the written rules of the Triwizard Tournament. I did inform the relevant departments of the Ministry of occurrences for which I had knowledge and proof of. I swear that the man known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, also called Lord Voldemort, was killed on October 31st, 1981. I swear to witnessing Peter Pettigrew, also called Wormtail, perform a ritual to return said being to life on June 24th, 1996. I also swear to have seen Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe Senior, Gregory Goyle Senior, and over fifty other witches and wizards voluntarily answer the call of the being once called Lord Voldemort, and that to bear the Death Eater mark takes willing participation in the rape and murder of an innocent. So I say, by my magic and my life so mote it be."
Dead silence rang through the hall as Harry's oath ended. Harry released his staff, which itself stayed upright, exactly where he had stuck it at the beginning of his oath. Raising his arms, he spun, facing every member of the assembled members as well as the public gallery.
"I have made my oath, and I still stand," he called, before returning his gaze to Malfoy. "I have made my oath, will you make one of your own?"
"My guilt is not in question, yours is," Malfoy sneered, flicking his hair back over his shoulder. "And you still stand accused."
"Actually Mr Malfoy, he does not," Dumbledore spoke from the podium. "By his oath, all accusations are answered. If Tom Riddle died on October the 31st, 1981, then if he was killed again he was the subject of a necromantic ritual, the subject of which is considered a non-entity by our laws. He also told the relevant departments of the Ministry, and as such did his civic duty, of items he had knowledge and proof of. The ritual used to resurrect the man that was once Tom Riddle was a single practitioner ritual, and as it was performed by Peter Pettigrew, Mr Potter and Miss Granger could not have done so."
"I don't care!" This outburst came from an older wizard in green robes holding a bowler hat. "They are guilty and I want them executed immediately!"
"Minister…"
"Immediately!"
"I do not have that power. Such an order requires a verdict of the entire Wizengamot." Dumbledore spoke calmingly, trying to talk down the Minister.
"Then vote!"
"Point of order, if I may?" Hermione spoke for the first time. "It has been entered and accepted into evidence, through Harry's oath, that to earn the mark of Voldemort, one must willingly participate in rape and murder. In addition, such crimes, if verified, prevent sitting in the Wizengamot."
"What's your point girl?" the Minister snarled.
"Just this."
Hermione's suppression cuffs joined Harry's on the floor as her staff flared in her hands. A pulse left her staff and travelled through the room. As it passed, every left sleeve in the room vanished. Malfoy and Umbridge both hurriedly tried to hide their left forearms, as did many others. Several people tried to depart hurriedly, only to be stopped and stunned by the auror guards.
"To sit in the Wizengamot with such a mark is illegal. If there is a mistake, and you honestly were coerced, then you should have no issue taking an oath or testifying under veritaserum," Hermione's voice spoke clearly through the commotion. "Until they do however, they are barred from voting upon this case."
"Legal malarkey," Fudge growled.
"Minister, is there a reason you are not displaying your left forearm?" Harry asked, calling attention to the fact Fudge had his arm under his desk. "You wouldn't by chance happen to have a tattoo there would you?"
"Whether I do or not is irrelevant, get on with the-"
The Minister trailed off, freezing as he felt a wand tip against the back of his neck. Carefully turning, he saw the hard, no nonsense face of Amelia Bones. Glancing back to the rows of the members, he saw another Amelia Bones sitting in her seat. Then the other Bones shifted, becoming a very young, pink haired witch in auror robes.
"Minister, please remove your arm from beneath the table, empty."
"Avada Kedavra!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
Every eye in the room turned back to the two teens, watching as Lucius Malfoy and Dolores Umbridge cast simultaneous killing curses at Hermione Granger. They both knew what had happened in the cemetery, knew that Potter had a defense, but there was no way the mudblood bitch knew it too.
Hermione saw the spells, saw the angles, and knew she had to act. While she could have repeated Harry's capturing trick, she wasn't sure she could do two at once, so went for the alternative. In each hand, above it really, a plate of shear power appeared. Twenty centimeters wide by thirty long, they looked like mini shields. Thrusting out, one in the way of each spell, she angled them instinctively and braced.
Just as her arms set the spells impacted and deflected. Each sheet of eldritch power turned the curse that hit it, sending the curse along a new trajectory. Everyone gasped as each spell now traveled along the path the other had held previously, but in reverse. Malfoy and Umbridge barely had time for shock to appear on their faces before the green jets impacted their chests and they slumped to the ground.
"Got you now!" crowed the Minister, standing up and pointing at Hermione. "Aurors, arrest her for the murder of Dolores Umbridge and Lucius Malfoy. In fact, throw her straight into Azkaban, we all saw her kill them."
"Hold." The single word from behind him killed every voice in the room, and Fudge froze in fear as he realized what he'd done. In standing, he'd exposed his left arm and everyone was now staring at him. "Minister, firstly that was clearly self defense as they cast the curses, curses which are illegal and an automatic life sentence in Azkaban. Secondly, you are under arrest. Aurors, collect every person who has the mark, the holding cells are going to get crowded."
"Allow me to help," Harry said, and his staff pulsed blue and green. From every corner of the room, witches and wizards began to drift up, floating and drifting their way to the center of the room. Their wands flowed into a pile at Harry's feet. Amelia herself escorted the Minister down from his seat, and looked in shock as two of her Aurors were herded into the group as well.
It took almost half an hour before all the Death Eaters were removed and the bodies of Dolores Umbridge and Lucius Malfoy were removed. The seating in the Wizengamot had gotten a lot less crowded, as almost forty percent of their numbers were now in holding cells. All the while Harry and Hermione stood calmly by, helping where needed but generally just staying out of the way.
"Now that that unpleasantness is over," Dumbledore turned to the young couple. "I do believe we still need to make an official ruling for you two. All those who vote guilty?"
Silence and a distinct lack of votes.
"And for not guilty?"
Every wand tip in the chamber lit.
"Very well then. Mr Potter, Miss Granger, the Wizengamot finds you not guilty. You are free to go."
"One thing before we go," Harry spoke up, and tried not to shake his head at Hermione's giggles. "As an adult and having fully and legally inherited my titles, which coincidentally happened yesterday. Odd how they scheduled this farce the day after I became chargeable as a legal adult, thus making my assets seizable."
"Odd indeed Mr Potter."
"Anyway, as I am fully invested, I believe it is time for me to take my seat."
"Ah, I'm not sure if you are aware but the Wizengamot requires you to be at least seventeen to sit proxy, and twenty-five to be a full member," Albus told him sagely, his voice full of false regret.
"Oh I know that, which is why Hermione shall sit as the proxy for the Potter seat come September," Harry responded with a wry grin. "I'm going to take my other seat."
"I'm afraid I don't follow," a confused Dumbledore confessed.
"Not surprising, as none have claimed this particular seat in over a thousand years," Harry allowed, pulling his sword from the sheath over his shoulder. "You see, the Chief Warlock is actually a ceremonial placeholder, meant to signify the crown. Now, over the years it has become the de facto leader of this body, but the true leader holds a different title."
"I beg your pardon," Dumbledore was clearly affronted now.
"The original Wizengamot," Hermione continued for Harry, "was called the Wizards Council, an advisory group to the King. The purpose has shifted over the years, but the original charter still stands. And in that charter, the leader of the Wizengamot was the King himself."
As Hermione spoke, Harry slowly stepped forward, stopping just below Dumbledore's desk. As she spoke the final words, Harry sank the blade he wore down into a small obsidian protrusion against the front of the desk. The sword slid home easily, stopping halfway down the blade. A low rumble began and the blade started to glow. The Chief Warlock's desk began to shrink, no, not shrink, but lowered itself from its original position as the highest point in the chamber to a desk near the floor. Behind the now much lower Dumbledore, a set of large comfortable chairs grew. Tall backed and finely upholstered, they sat side by side warm and inviting. The room itself shifted as well, going from the circular horseshoe that it was to a longer hall like setup. The Wizengamot seats parted and now lined each side, with the public gallery above it. At the front were the steps to the thrones, with a desk for the Chief Warlock on the right and a desk for the recorder on the left. Between them, at the base of the steps, the sword stood proud in its stone plinth.
As the sword grew dimmer, all eyes saw writing form upon it. It mattered not how far one was, every pair of eyes could read the blade clearly. EXCALIBUR.
"My Lady," Harry's voice carried over the hushed crowd, who watched raptly as Harry led Hermione up to the thrones, seating her and kissing her cheek before turning back to the hall and sitting himself. "Chief Warlock, have we any other business?"
