Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling.
Content Warning: References to domestic violence and child abuse.
What was England, before Wolsey? A little offshore island, poor and cold.
- Hilary Mantel, Wolf Hall (2009)
Chapter 23: Testimony
The Muggles of Gloucester typically passed the abandoned warehouse near the center of old town without a second thought. But, on a blustery January morning, hundreds of strange people were assembled outside. They wore curiously outdated clothes and held signs. Every time one of the townsfolk tried to read the signs, however, they'd suddenly become very distracted and remember they were terrifically late for another appointment.
The Aurors and officials from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes on site had reminded the protesters to keep their chants to Muggle-appropriate slogans. If directly asked what they were doing, they were to say they were protesting tax hikes to the hydraulic licensing process in the Severn Consortium. No one usually asked questions after that.
His cloak whipping around him, Harry made his way through the line of security wizards and Aurors guarding the entrance, his face impassive as the protestors shouted to him.
The Gloucestershire Division of the Wizengamot was a handsome Regency-era building, its stone the color of wet sand. Inside, a gallery bracketed in ionic columns led the way to a large meeting chamber. By one o'clock, the chamber was close to bursting with over three hundred visitors and journalists. Harry could see at least five Prophet reporters, the Quibbler's law and justice correspondent, two loathsome staffers from The Screeching Mandrake, and dozens of foreign outlets.
Moving down the aisle, he dodged a volley of questions from reporters and took his seat in the first row behind the counselors' tables. Hermione looked around at the commotion caused by his arrival and fleetingly smiled at him before turning back to her whispered conversation with Lakey, Emi, and several assistant counselors.
Edward Bruton—counselor to the defendant—sat at the other table with his own team. Close to ninety, Bruton was a large man with prodigious jowls, crepe-like skin, and an aquiline nose. His eyes glimmered with a dark intelligence, small and black.
Beyond the counselors, Harry could see the carved wooden dais of the witness stand and a long marble panel, behind which seven high-backed chairs were arranged in a row.
"Call to order!" shouted a man next to a side door. "Rise for the honorable members of the Wizengamot of Gloucestershire."
The journalists and spectators scrambled to their seats and the chamber fell silent. The side door opened and seven wizards and witches filed in. They wore crimson robes lined in gold with ceremonial wigs. Despite the regalia, Harry recognized most of them. Three were serving lifetime appointments, four were elected. Two of the appointed judges were from the Fudge era, the other appointed by Minister Shacklebolt. And then there was the other consideration: four of the magistrates were purebloods, two were half-bloods, and one was a Muggle-born.
One of the appointed judges—an elderly man with a grooved face and a shock of white hair—took the center chair, his colleagues arranged around him.
"The honorable Gaheris Fawley presiding," finished the court attendant.
"Be seated," said Judge Fawley, his voice craggy and deep like a cavern in a storm. "The guards will bring in the accused."
Another door opened and there stood Theodonus Callahan. A ripple moved through the chamber as the ex-Auror was brought forward by two security wizards, the photographers in the press box contorting themselves to find the best angle.
Callahan was much changed since Harry last saw him in the holding cells at Stonehouse. He wore clean, formal robes. His dark blond hair was neat and combed back. He was clean-shaven and wore square-rimmed glasses Harry had never seen before. They gave him an air of bookish benignity.
He was directed to a chair near Bruton's table and the former Auror looked around. Briefly, his and Harry's eyes met. And, just before the younger man turned back to magistrates, Harry thought he saw the corners of his lips quirk.
"Are you Theodonus Elyan Callahan?" said Fawley.
"I am, sir." His voice was strong and clear, but deferential. Harry clenched his jaw.
"The clerk will read the charges."
A young woman seated beside the magistrates' bench stood, holding a long scroll.
"The accused, Theodonus Elyan Callahan of South Yorkshire, is charged under Article Nine of the Wizard Criminal Code of Great Britain, the Humane Treatment of Human Species and Variants Act, circa 1732, and the Muggle Protection Act of 2008 with the severe mistreatment of Muggles.
"The charges include unauthorized entry into a private residence; the use of Legilimency without a warrant; the illegal use of Legilimency on two minors; the unwarranted use of Legilimency on Muggles; two counts of the use of an Unforgivable Curse, the Cruciatus; two counts of using an Unforgivable Curse, the Cruciatus, on a Muggle; four counts of the unauthorized use of an Obliviation spell; and four counts of the use of an Oblivation spell at level five severity with the threat of irreversibility."
She sat down.
"How does the defendant plead?" said Fawley.
Callahan swallowed. "Not guilty. Of all charges."
Another flurry of camera spray, like the clicking of insects.
"And who will represent the defendant?"
Bruton stood. "Edward Bruton, your honor, for the defense."
"And who represents the Ministry of Magic?"
Hermione stood. "I do, your honor. Hermione Granger, Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
"Very well," said Fawley. "Counselor Granger, you may begin with your opening comments for the court."
"Thank you, sir."
She and Lakey shared a long glance. Then, she strode to the center of the room, her heels echoing in the silent chamber. She wore black robes with a high white collar, as was tradition in Wizengamot proceedings. Unlike the New Year's Eve ball or the opera before it, Harry could tell she'd taken a great deal of care with her appearance. Her curls—partially pulled back with a delicate clasp—were glossy and well-defined. Her eyes were lined and her lips were the color of deep wine. Around her collar hung a delicate necklace, a small sapphire cradled between two silver wings...
Watching her alone in the center of the chamber, Harry's heart stuttered strangely. He didn't believe in any gods, but he called on them now.
Yet, Hermione's hands did not shake. Her cheeks did not flush. She showed no outward sign of nerves. She smiled benevolently at the judges as if welcoming them to her own home.
"Judge Fawley, esteemed members of the Wizengamot." She nodded towards her opponent. "My learned friend, Counselor Bruton, and members of the public—it is an honor to be with you today.
"I think I am safe in assuming that you have heard much about this case," she smiled. "In the Daily Prophet, on the Wireless, from your friends and relatives. Perhaps you feel you already know what this case is about. Perhaps you have heard a fanatical Department of Magical Law Enforcement seeks to persecute an innocent and promising young Auror, that this government places the protection of Muggles over the protection of our own kind."
She paused and looked out over the audience.
"I want to remind everyone in this chamber," she said softly and her voice carried in the still air, "that we are the only ones in this country who will hear the whole story, who will hear the facts. We are privileged. And because we are privileged, we are honor-bound to follow the facts where they lead us. And that is exactly what the government intends to present over the course of this trial: the facts."
She took several steps towards Callahan. His face was expressionless, but Harry thought he saw a trace of malice in the clear blue eyes, like dark sails on a horizon. The same malice he'd shown at Stonehouse, when he called her a mudblood and, just as he had in September, Harry felt an almost overwhelming impulse to stand between them.
"The facts of this case are clear," she said quietly, looking directly at the former Auror. "Mr. Callahan entered a private residence on the 29th of August of last year. Against all Auror protocols and regulations, he attacked a Muggle family. He tied up a mother, a father, and their two children. He tortured Walter and Theresa Cameron with the Cruciatus while their children watched. He performed unwarranted—and in the case of the children, illegal—Legilimency on all four. He Obliviated them with a violent and prohibited form of the Memory Charm. The Camerons' memories have not been restored. They have not returned to their normal lives."
Harry looked across the aisle. Callahan's mother was in the front row. A slight woman with thinning blond hair, she twisted a handkerchief in her lap and watched her son with oleaginous admiration. A younger man sat beside her. He had the same dark blond hair and he looked at Hermione like she was a dangerous insect.
Harry thought of who was not in the courtroom. The Camerons were at St. Mungo's. As Muggles, they were not allowed to attend the trial, even for crimes committed against them.
Hermione turned from Callahan and walked towards the audience.
"These facts have been proven by Mr. Callahan's wand, which was carefully evaluated after the attack. These facts have been proven by a magical evaluation, which confirmed the defendant was not under the Imperious Curse when the attack occurred. Whatever else you may hear over the course of this trial, these are the facts."
She again shared a look with Lakey before turning back to the Wizengamot, her true audience.
"What was done to the Camerons was monstrous. It offends, on every level," she said, calm and deliberate. "But I am not here to speak to your moral sensitivities or even your sense of empathy, though that certainly matters. No, there's something more important at stake."
She released a slow breath.
"The separation of our worlds works because we police our own," she said. "When either side—Muggle or magical—fails to deliver justice, we undermine the delicate balance our forbearers fought to establish for our own survival. Injustice is a rot. If we allow it to grow, it will eat away at the protections of our world."
Harry saw the brilliance of it. The Wizengamot members were institutionalists. They would not be swayed on the basis of common humanity, of compassion for a Muggle family they would never see, would never hear speak.
Hermione knew this. She had to appeal to their sense of propriety, their sense of obligation. She must make them reflect on what the two worlds owed one another. If the magical could not deliver justice to their own kind, Hermione's argument implied, perhaps the Muggles would do it for them...
But, Harry read her eyes, the tension at the corners of her lips. This was not the argument she wanted to make. He could almost see her fighting her own instincts, her goodness, her spirit. They demanded she force the Wizengamot to acknowledge the Camerons' humanity, to imagine their response if someone attacked their family in the same way.
But she could not do that. She had learned a lesson long ago—when the House-Elf Reform Act was watered down for the seventh time, when she used to loiter in the Ministry Atrium with a bright green N.S.P.E.W badge on her chest, passing out pamphlets to uncaring bureaucrats. After all her work, there were still enslaved elves in Britain. Fewer slaves, but still slaves. Was that progress? In the end, a love of tradition, a dislike of inconvenience had outweighed compassion.
And so it was with Muggles, though it was different. Wizards feared them, while simultaneously believing in their own superiority. The fear of exposure, the fear of subjugation outweighed compassion. As long as the worlds were separate, as long as they could not know one another...that would be the case.
So, Hermione had one argument. And she delivered it with care and eloquence, as was her duty as the government's advocate.
Some things were too important for idealism and locking up Theodonus Callahan was one of them.
"Our laws are clear," Hermione continued. "The punishment for Muggle torture is life in Azkaban. Mr. Callahan has proven himself unworthy of a position of public trust. He has failed in his duty to uphold the laws of magical Britain. He has shown no remorse for his actions on the night of August 29th. Accordingly, the Ministry asks that the Wizengamot deliver a verdict commensurate with Mr. Callahan's actions and restore the balance between our two worlds, which the defendant so thoughtlessly endangered."
She lowered her head to the members. As she returned to her table, she glanced at Harry and he gave her a small nod, aware the cameras were on them. When she sat down, he saw Emi grip her hand hard under the table.
"Counselor Bruton," Fawley said. "The floor is yours."
The older wizard got to his feet. With his black robes, white collar, and reddened face, he looked a bit like a vulture descending on a fresh kill.
"Judge Fawley, honorable members." He barely inclined his head in Hermione's direction. "Counselor Granger.
"That was quite a pronouncement we just heard," he smiled, spreading his arms wide. "Listening to Counselor Granger you'd think my client had designs on overthrowing the entire wizarding order."
Laughter bubbled up from the crowd. Hermione's back stiffened.
"Counselor Granger repeated the so-called facts ad nauseam. She need not. We accept those facts," he said easily. "What the Counselor has failed to provide, however, is any hint of a motive as to why a promising and talented young Auror—with no history of mistreatment towards Muggles—would suddenly decide to attack a Muggle family."
He paused and came to stand next to Callahan, who kept his eyes reverentially downcast. "This suggests that something doesn't quite add up in the government's argument. And, if I may be so bold, that perhaps Counselor Granger is missing some facts."
Harry's jaw tightened.
"As the defense will show over the course of this trial, Theodonus Callahan was an exceptional Auror before his wand was snapped. Graduating at the top of Slytherin House, he was accepted into the Auror training programme at age twenty, after receiving glowing recommendations from his former professors. Once an Auror, by all accounts, he conducted himself with professionalism and exceptional proficiency. His performance evaluations were uniformly superb, including those written by the Chief of the Auror Department."
Harry felt a wave of eyes flicking in his direction. He stared at Bruton.
"During his eight years with the Auror Department, Mr. Callahan interacted with Muggles hundreds of times in the course of his duties. At no point did any of those interactions result in violence." He paused and looked at Hermione. "Counselor Granger will undoubtedly insinuate over the coming days that Mr. Callahan harbored a secret hatred of Muggles, that he was and continues to be, a blood supremacist. Let me be very clear. Nothing could be further from the truth."
Bruton laid a hand on Callahan's shoulder.
"On the night of August 29th, my client was ordered to surveil the childhood home of a dangerous former Death Eater. Upon reaching 9 Ashway Court in Cainscross, Mr. Callahan cast anti-deception charms and revelatory spells to determine whether the Death Eater was hidden inside. What Counselor Granger does not know is that, as Mr. Callahan circled the perimeter of the home, he heard violence inside. The Muggle father was hurting his children."
There was a collective intake of breath. The camera bulbs exploded. The green Quick-Quote Quills in the press box trembled furiously, like the feathers of angry peacock. Hermione's face was like stone. Slowly, she picked up her quill from its stand. The stand he'd given her for Christmas.
Fawley struck his gavel on the bench.
"Counselor Granger stated my client entered the Camerons' residence against all Auror protocols and regulations," said Bruton over the continued murmurs. "One wonders what regulations she has read, for our laws clearly allow Aurors to intervene to prevent violence. When Mr. Callahan entered the home, he tried to deescalate the situation but the Muggle man was irrational, violent. Then, my client saw the gun."
The effect was instantaneous. The chamber erupted in shouts and cries, many in the audience getting to their feet. Fawley struck the gavel again, but it was no use. The crowd gesticulated and shouted insults at the prosecution, but Hermione, Lakey, and Emi kept their eyes forward.
Bruton walked back to his table. On its surface sat a long wooden box, which Harry had overlooked before. Bruton lifted the lid and removed a long rifle. He held it high above his head for the entire chamber to see, the cameras clicking madly.
Most wizards barely understood guns, but they knew they were powerful Muggle weapons. The Prophet frequently likened them to "metal wands" and wizards respected wands. Yet, this gun looked strange, even to Harry's untrained eye. The barrel was tarnished. The stock was intricately carved wood with gold accents. A silver bayonet was fixed to the front. It looked old, ceremonial. Like it hadn't been touched in years.
"The defense enters into evidence the gun found at the Camerons' residence."
A guard stepped forward and took the rifle carefully in his arms, as if it were a bomb.
Fawley struck his gavel several more times and the audience finally grew still. Bruton returned to Callahan's side. The younger man's eyes darted almost hungrily across chamber, taking in the reaction from the crowd.
"Now," Bruton continued, "my client is only human. Like all of us, he is capable of mistakes. Seeing the enraged Muggle, the gun—he feared for his life. He cast the Incarcerous Spell, but the Muggle man and his wife fought against the restraints. In his panicked state, he cast the Cruciatus."
Hermione's eyes narrowed.
"Having exposed himself already," Bruton went on, "he performed Legilimency to determine whether the family had any knowledge of the former Death Eater. Finding nothing, Mr. Callahan sought to obliviate the Muggles as is standard practice. However, rattled by the encounter, the Memory Charm was too powerful.
"So you see, honorable members," said Bruton, his voice soft, "this is not a case of a rogue Auror exerting his power over an innocent Muggle family. No, Theo Callahan tried to do the right thing that night. He tried to protect two Muggle children. Yet, the situation escalated beyond his control, despite his best efforts."
He paused, then, and seemed to look at each magistrate in turn. "So, I ask you, does this young man deserve to spend his days in an Azkaban cell? Away from his family? Spurned by his society? This Wizengamot, and Wizengamots across our country, have sat through similar trials." The corners of his lips twitched. "I know Counselor Granger is fond of facts, so perhaps I can share one with the court. In the last ten years, no Auror has been sent to Azkaban for his or her response to a domestic crisis. Only when the family involved is a Muggle family does this government seem to raise a hue and cry. One must wonder why that is..."
The chamber filled with whispers as Bruton returned to his seat.
Fawley cleared his throat and glanced at his colleagues. "Thank you, counselors. Court stands in recess until nine o'clock tomorrow."
He struck the gavel and Harry jumped to his feet, but someone grabbed his elbow.
"I caught the end," said Ron lowly by his ear. "Fucking bullocks. Have they ever met Walter Cameron? The man wouldn't hurt a doxy. How was Hermione?"
"She was great," he muttered.
But, Harry felt sick. Before he remembered making a conscious decision, he was moving towards her, Lakey, and Emi, Ron at his side.
"Hermione," he said tightly.
She stood and the others circled around them. She looked at his face before quickly glancing away, something drawn in her eyes.
"You should go," she said. "We shouldn't be seen talking. You testify tomorrow."
"The gun," he said so quietly he barely heard himself. "I don't think it's been used in years."
She nodded. "I'll speak to Walter about it tonight. It doesn't look functional. It looks like an heirloom, but the Wizengamot isn't going to know the difference."
Lakey shook his head. His skin was flushed under his grizzled beard. "It's all a fiction. Bruton knows the Camerons can't speak for themselves, even if they did remember the attack. It's the word of an Auror against Muggles. And we know Bruton's not fool enough to put Callahan on the stand or we'd rip the story apart."
"Yes," said Emi, rolling her eyes, "and don't forget the part where his wand slipped and he cast the Cruciatus."
Harry would've laughed, but it felt like a large rock was lodged in his chest.
"Go," Hermione pressed. "I'll see you tomorrow."
He stepped back, numb. Ron leaned down and kissed her cheek. The flurry of camera spray sounded like sheets of icy rain.
The Golden Trio had that effect.
"That's ridiculous," Dr. Peck hissed two hours later at a corner table in the Leaky Cauldron. "Even if Walter was a dangerous person—which he's not—why would Callahan do that torture curse after the Camerons' were tied up? It makes no sense."
"I know," Ron murmured, "but you don't know what it's like. When people hear there's a gun involved—"
"Well, I'd like to see this gun," Alex said hotly. "If he'd shown it in one of our trials he would've been laughed out of the courtroom."
Harry stared at the dark froth of his ale. After court adjourned, Ron told him he was meeting Alex to visit the shop in Knockturn Alley that sold magical blood. Harry decided to join, strangely desperate to do anything at all that could help the Camerons.
The shop was as dodgy as Harry expected. Eyeing Alex's strange clothes, the owner had taken them to a back room and opened an icebox. Inside were vials of blood from roughly fifty different witches and wizards.
The cost was exorbitant—over 1,000 Galleons or roughly 5,000 pounds—but they agreed to pay it and the delivery fee to Alex's flat. But even these samples were not enough. They would need several hundred more to get an accurate read.
"Can't you call up some forensics expert or something?" Alex pressed. "Show that the gun had never been fired or wasn't even loaded?"
Harry shook his head. "The only people with that kind of expertise are Muggles and they can't come into the courtroom."
The Muggle growled. "That's a fucking stupid law. I thought you said things were better, after that war of yours."
Harry and Ron were silent.
"I'm more worried there's no one to speak to the Camerons' characters," said the ginger lowly, idly spinning a sickle on the table with his wand. "I reckon you could mention it, Harry, but I know they're trying to keep you impartial."
He said nothing.
Alex ran a frustrated hand through his hair and removed his mobile.
"Put that away," Ron hissed. "You'll draw attention."
Harry glanced at the face of the phone, which shone like a beacon in the dingy pub. Indeed, several patrons turned in their seats, looking for the source of the odd light.
"Sorry. Habit," he grumbled. "What're we going to do about the samples, then? We still need more."
"The owner said the market is bigger in Eastern Europe," Ron mused. "I could ask Maggie if she has any contacts. She's the head of our international division," he explained for Alex.
The doctor looked uncomfortable at the idea. "That'd be bringing in another person. Do you trust her not to ask questions about what we're doing?"
"I think so. If she gets me the names, I'll owl them myself."
Alex nodded. Ron glanced at his watch and took a final swig of his drink.
"I'd better pick up Hugo. Mum's been watching him." He looked at Harry and gripped his shoulder. "Good luck tomorrow."
Harry nodded stiffly, unable to meet his eyes.
It was strange. Since the protest in Diagon Alley, Harry thought of nothing but the trial. The dread roiled constantly in his chest, like a great turbine. But, seeing his best friend, he remembered other things. Last week, he had pushed Ron's wife against a wall. He had felt a dark chill as her tongue slipped past his. He had gripped her hips as she lowered herself onto his lap.
As Ron shook Alex's hand and stood, Harry finally raised his eyes. He could see the worry in Ron's handsome, angular face. And Harry despised himself.
He barely slept.
At five, he gave up and got out of bed. Ginny was huddled on the far side, fast asleep.
They barely spoke the night before. She hadn't asked about the trial and, thankfully, Lily filled the silence at dinner. In her mind-focusing class at Agrippa that day, she had levitated a feather with her mind, the first in her cohort to do so. She had told Duncan after school and he had called her "brilliant." Lily cheeks flushed as she said it.
In the kitchen as he made tea, Harry waited for the Prophet. When it finally came, it was as bad as he expected.
EXPLOSIVE NEW ALLEGATIONS: EX-AUROR DEFENDED MUGGLE CHILDREN FROM RAVING FATHER WITH GUN, DEFENSE CLAIMS
Beneath the headline was a nearly full-page picture of Bruton holding the rifle over his head. The counselor turned in a slow circle, the Muggle weapon glinting darkly in the flash of the camera bulbs.
Further down, there was a picture of himself speaking urgently to Hermione, Ron, Lakey, and Emi. The caption read:
Golden Trio Put Up United Front: Auror Chief, Harry Potter, and husband and entrepreneur, Ron Weasley, stand by lead Ministry prosecutor, Hermione Granger, as trial takes a dramatic turn. Chief Potter will provide testimony today. For full coverage, see pages A-2 through A-12.
He watched Hermione's small, grainy face for some time as she looked at him, and then away. Again and again.
If it was possible, the meeting chamber was even more crowded. Members of the press jostled angrily in their box. People stood at the back and in the aisles. The guards had finally barred the doors. Rain pelted the windows and the entire room smelt of wet wool and anticipation.
As the magistrates filed in, Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so nervous. Perhaps not since Lily was born.
Ron sat beside him. "Look at that twat," he mumbled, inclining his head towards Bruton. "Is he planning to keep the box out the whole trial?"
Indeed, the rifle case was still on Bruton's table. Hermione had confirmed with Walter last night that it was a family heirloom, a relic from the Second Boer War that belonged to his great-grandfather.
Harry cast a furtive glance over his shoulder. Matthew Durkheim sat behind him, next to Cassiopeia Burke and Augustus Pyke, the other Auror who would give testimony today. Yvain More was standing guard near the doors. Several rows back, Harry saw Annie Wilkes—the specialist in magical evaluations. She, alone, seemed at ease. Her eyes swept disinterestedly over the chamber as if she found the proceedings exceptionally dull.
Judge Fawley slammed his gavel on the bench. "Court is now in session. Counselor Granger, you have first witness."
Hermione stood.
"Your honor, the Ministry calls Harry Potter to the stand."
Excited whispers filled the chamber. The public hadn't known the witness order, only that he would testify today.
Harry got to his feet, the camera bulbs bursting like flares in the corners of his vision, and walked towards the witness stand. The intricately carved dais seemed to predate the Shacklebolt era. The mahogany figures on the panels were uniformly male wizards. Their wands were held high and emitted sparks of inlaid gold. Harry took his seat in a high-backed chair, not dissimilar to the one in Emi's dining room. He glanced at the prosecution's table and Emi gave him a quick smile.
"Chief Potter," said Fawley and his deep voice echoed to the ceiling, "do you swear that the testimony you shall give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"
"I do."
"You may proceed, Counselor Granger."
"Thank you, your honor."
She looked at him steadily. Harry could tell she hadn't slept either. She'd carefully applied make-up under her eyes and wore more blush than usual. But, when she smiled at him, her face turned slightly towards the audience, Harry could almost forget what was happening around them.
It was just them. Harry and Hermione.
"Chief Potter," she said lightly.
"Counselor Granger," he returned.
Good-natured laughter rose from the assembled. Even some of the magistrates smiled. It was charming to see two members of the Golden Trio address one another by their formal titles. Bruton might have rolled his eyes.
"Can you please state your full name for the court?"
"Harry James Potter."
Many in the audience were smiling now, amused that the most famous wizard alive would need to provide his full name.
Hermione led him through the same questions from the week before, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips.
"Chief Potter," she said several minutes later, "can you tell the court when you first met the defendant, Theo Callahan?"
"In 2010," he replied. "When he officially joined up after the Auror training programme."
"What was your impression of Mr. Callahan at that time?"
Harry glanced at the former Auror. He was watching Harry closely.
"I thought he was bright," he said honestly. "He seemed eager to learn the ropes."
Hermione nodded. "Earlier you said you were made Chief in 2012. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"Once you had taken on a more supervisory role, did your impression of Mr. Callahan change?"
"Yes...somewhat."
"Can you explain how?"
Harry paused. "Over time, he showed a certain dislike of authority. He would complain when he was given an assignment he considered beneath him."
Callahan shifted in his chair.
"How would he make that displeasure known?"
"He'd try to switch shifts with other Aurors to get out of certain duties. Some of them complained to me," said Harry. "He'd turn in late reports if he thought a case was not worth his time."
She nodded and paced before him for a moment, the chamber silent.
"Despite this occasional disregard for authority, do you think Theo Callahan was a good Auror?"
"Yes," Harry said. "Until this."
Again, murmurs filled the chamber. It was one thing to assume Harry Potter would take the prosecution's side, but another to hear it from his lips.
"Thank you, Chief," said Hermione over the continued whispers. "I'd like you to take us back to the 29th of August. Tell the court what happened that day, from your perspective, and how it involved the defendant."
He released a breath. "There was an anonymous tip that afternoon," he began. "An ex-Death Eater was spotted in Diagon Alley. It was the first sighting in several years."
"This ex-Death Eater was Deedrick Rudge?"
"Yes," he nodded. "One of the few still at large. I retrieved his file and dispatched several Aurors to locations Rudge was associated with: a London flat, his ex-girlfriend's residence in Leicester, and his childhood home in Cainscross, here in Gloucestershire. We have a coverage system in the Auror Department," he explained. "There are so few of us, we all monitor wide areas when we're on duty. Mr. Callahan was the only Auror on duty in this area, so...I sent him to Cainscross."
"Did you direct Mr. Callahan to 9 Ashway Court in Cainscross?"
"I did. That was Rudge's childhood home, though I understand his family left many years ago. The Cameron family has lived there for some time, I think."
She nodded. "And how did you direct Mr. Callahan to this location?"
"I sent orders via patronus. I gave him the address and instructed him to conduct reconnaissance of the home and the surrounding area. He sent his patronus back, confirming receipt."
She nodded. "You'll forgive us, Chief Potter. Many of us are civilians in this room. What exactly does 'conduct reconnaissance' mean to an Auror?"
"It has a precise definition in our line of work," Harry answered. "It means conducting visual surveillance. At most, you can cast de-mystifying or anti-deception charms. Revelatory spells. Sneakoscopes are used in some instances."
"So, reconnaissance is an inherently non-invasive law enforcement activity?" she asked, feigning ignorance for the court. "It's passive?"
"Yes, very much so. If you're doing it right, no one should know you're there."
"Did you instruct Theo Callahan to do anything other than conduct reconnaissance?"
"No," said Harry firmly. "My orders were clear. Surveil the area and report back."
"Did Theo Callahan report back?"
"No, he did not."
Another round of murmurs. Harry saw Callahan's brother look restlessly around the room.
"At what time did you issue your orders to Mr. Callahan?"
"I'd have to check the log. All our official patronuses are recorded. But I think it was around eight o'clock."
"And when did you expect Theo Callahan to report back?"
"Standard practice is hourly updates to the Auror on call at Headquarters. Mr. Callahan did not provide the hourly updates, but that was unsurprising...at the time."
"Why was it unsurprising?"
"Because of what I said before," said Harry. "Callahan would've seen this task as beneath him. He had a tendency to turn in late reports for those kind of cases."
Bruton stood. "Objection, your honor. Speculation."
"Sustained," said Fawley.
"I'll rephrase," said Harry.
"Please," said Hermione.
The audience laughed.
Harry smiled somewhat ruefully. "What I mean to say is that it was well known Mr. Callahan turned in late reports. No one—including myself—expected Rudge to turn up at his childhood home, so there was no real pressure to provide the hourly updates, even though that is standard practice. I expected to see his report in the morning."
"And did you see his report in the morning?"
"No."
She nodded, letting his answer fill the room.
"And when did you realize something might be wrong?" she asked quietly.
Harry looked down briefly. The rest of the story was difficult.
"I got into the office around seven the next morning," he said. "I'd just started looking through the overnight reports. The hourly updates from the Aurors at the London and Leicester locations were there for my review. It was around that time I got a telephone call."
"A telephone call," she repeated. "You mean a call on the device Muggles invented to communicate with one another?"
"Yes."
Several (presumably) purebloods, who had looked confused at the mention of telephones, nodded solemnly to each other.
"Who had called you?"
"Jack Hewett, the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police...the Muggle police in London. We have a direct line to one another in the event we need to consult on certain cases."
"I see," said Hermione, though Harry knew she was well aware of the connection between the AD and the Met. "And what did the Muggle police commissioner tell you?"
Harry looked at his feet. "He received a strange report from Cainscross. He's one of the few Muggles who would recognize magical activity on paper and all the hallmarks were there. Four family members passed out in their sitting room. No evidence of drug use or a gas leak. Credit cards and electronics untouched. The victims had also suffered severe memory loss...When Commissioner Hewett told me the address, I knew."
"What did you do then?" said Hermione, and Harry could feel the courtroom hanging on his every word.
"I tried contacting Mr. Callahan. My patronuses went unanswered. I sent several Aurors to his flat while I went to Cainscross."
"And what did you find there?"
He swallowed. "The Cameron family had been removed to a local clinic. Walter, Theresa, and their son had all come to, but they were severely disoriented. The boy...he was vomiting constantly. I'm—I'm told that can happen to Muggle children when they're obliviated." He paused. "The daughter...had not woken up. Her mother...she was inconsolable."
For the briefest moment, Harry saw the veil drop behind Hermione's eyes, the impregnable professionalism giving way to something like pain.
When she failed to ask a question, he continued.
"I helped transport them to St. Mungo's. They're still there. The Healers haven't been able to restore their memories. Walter and Theresa...they can't earn a living. They can't return to their world. The children...the daughter is still in a magical coma."
The chamber was entirely silent. Hermione watched him for a long moment, then her eyes flickered to the Wizengamot.
"Have you spent time with the Camerons, Chief Potter?"
He looked at her, unsure how to answer. With the smallest movement of her head, she nodded.
"I have," he said.
"They cannot be here with us," she said softly. "Tell us...what kind of family are they?"
He hesitated. He looked out over the chamber—at Lakey and Emi, at Ron, at Durkheim, at Cassy and Yvain, at the reporters in the press box. At Callahan, who wore an expression of blank disinterest. He looked back at Hermione and that peculiar animus, that strange stridency that defined her character seemed to seep into him like the warmth of the sun in winter.
"I think they're a wonderful family."
"How so?"
"You can just tell," he said quietly. "They love each other. I've seen countless families in my line of work. They're a good one."
She smiled faintly, something soft to her eyes. And Harry knew it was for him. It wasn't part of the performance.
"Thank you, Chief," she said after a moment. "Just a few more questions. Was Theo Callahan eventually found?"
"Yes. Several Aurors on patrol found him that morning. At the Leaky Cauldron."
Murmurs, again, rose from the crowd.
"What was he doing there?"
"By all accounts, enjoying a pint."
The murmurs grew louder.
"He did not seem surprised that his colleagues had come to arrest him?"
Bruton stood again. "Objection. Chief Potter has no direct knowledge of the events of my client's arrest. As he said, he was not there."
"Sustained," said Fawley.
"I retract," said Hermione, the corners of her lips twitching.
She walked back to the table and Emi handed her a file. She returned and passed it to Harry.
"Could you read the title of this document for the court?"
"Interrogation of Theodonus Elyan Callahan."
"What is the date?"
"August 30th, 2017."
"So, this would have been the day after Mr. Callahan entered the Camerons' home?"
"Yes. It's the first interrogation."
"Were you present for it?"
"I was."
"Can you read line sixteen for me?"
He flipped to the second page. Bruton stared hard at the floor, as though it had offended him. In those first few hours after the attack, Callahan agreed to be interrogated without a counselor present.
Harry spoke in a strong, clear voice. "It says, 'the Muggles were uncooperative. They have no idea who we are, the power we have...'"
Several wizards and witches in audience shook their heads. The Quick-Quotes Quills shivered on their parchments.
"If you could read line eighteen, please."
He looked further down. "'I was happy to do it. The regulations these days...they bind the hands of an Auror. If it were a wizard family, no one would have batted an eye if I used Legilimency or not. Only if it's Muggles does this Ministry seem to have a problem. They forget who they work for.'"
"Thank you," said Hermione. "Tell me, Chief Potter—how long was this first interrogation?"
"Around an hour, if memory serves."
"In all that time, did Mr. Callahan mention anything about observing or overhearing domestic violence in the Camerons' home?"
"No."
"Did he mention a gun?"
"No."
"Did he mention being in fear for his life?"
"No."
"Thank you, Chief Potter. No further questions."
The chamber again filled with murmurs as Hermione took her seat. It might've been his imagination, but Harry thought many in the audience were looking at Callahan with new eyes. The former Auror had remained unnaturally still throughout Hermione's questioning.
"Counselor Bruton," said Fawley. "Your witness."
The older wizard got to his feet. "Just a few questions, your honor."
An aide handed him a file and Bruton walked towards him.
"Chief Potter," he said obsequiously, placing a ringed hand on the witness stand. "It is an honor to speak to you again, though I wish it were under better circumstances."
Harry barely inclined his head.
"I wonder if you would do me the courtesy of reading the title of this document to the court?"
Harry opened the file. He kept his face neutral.
"Performance Evaluation of Theodonus Callahan."
"And the date, if you would be so kind?"
"July 6, 2017."
"So this would have been roughly two months before the events of August 29th. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"Thank you, sir," said Bruton, his white lips pulling into a smile. "Could you read the third sentence in the second paragraph for me?"
Harry wanted to roll his eyes, but suppressed it.
"'Mr. Callahan has shown exemplary proficiency in the execution of all his duties with the Department of Aurors, including stealth and surveillance, community liaison activities, and defensive actions and apprehension.'"
"And the first and second lines of the third paragraph?"
Harry clenched his jaw. "'Mr. Callahan demonstrates exceptional grace under pressure and the leadership qualities required for advancement in the ranks. As such, he is hereby recommended for elevation to the rank of Captain in the Department of Aurors.'"
Bruton reached over and turned to the second page. "And would you tell the court whose signature is at the bottom of this glowing evaluation?"
"Mine. As I said, until—"
"Thank you, Chief," said Bruton swiftly. He took back the report as the chamber filled with whispers, once again.
"Now, Chief. You stated earlier that you first met my client in 2010?"
"Yes."
"So you've known Mr. Callahan for roughly eight years?"
"Yes."
"That's quite a long time," said Bruton. "Did you work cases together?"
"Yes."
"Did you go on extended trips into the field together?"
"Yes."
"Did you spend time together socially? At work functions or, perhaps, grab an off-duty pint now and again?"
Harry hesitated. "Yes."
Bruton nodded. "In working all those cases, all those trips to the field, all those nights in a pub...did you ever hear Mr. Callahan voice any anti-Muggle views or sentiments?"
Harry clenched his jaw. "No."
"Did he ever voice any anti-Muggle-born views?"
"No."
"Did he ever show sympathy for or a predilection towards the Dark Arts?"
"Not to my knowledge."
"Did he ever express blood supremacist views?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
Bruton nodded slowly, dark eyes glimmering. "Just so I am completely clear," he drawled, "in the eight years you have known my client, Theo Callahan, he has never voiced any thought, opinion, or sympathy that would've made you think he was capable of doing what the prosecution alleges on the night of August 29th?"
"No." He glanced at Hermione. "But I wouldn't expect him to. It might surprise you to learn that blood supremacists don't always come across as miscreants and lowlifes. They often seem very respectable and are careful with their words, particularly around supervisors."
Hermione smiled into her lap.
"Of course," said Bruton, now looking displeased. "And you speak from personal experience?"
"I believe I have some experience with blood supremacists, yes."
Uncomfortable laughter bubbled up from the audience.
"Of course," Bruton said again.
He walked slowly back to his table and Harry thought he was done. But then, the counselor turned, the bright glint returning to his eyes.
"Just a few more questions," he said softly, "if you'd oblige me."
He glanced at the press box and then the Wizengamot.
"You told Counselor Granger that Aurors frequently encounter Muggles in the course of their duties. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"But your experience with Muggles goes further back, does it not?"
He blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"You were raised by a Muggle family, weren't you?"
Hermione stood up so quickly that the sound of her chair against the floor caused several people to jump in their seats.
"Objection, your honor." There was something almost panicked in her eyes. "Relevance?"
Fawley turned to Bruton.
"Your honor, Counselor Granger called Chief Potter to the stand to speak, in part, to his experience with Muggles. I see no reason why the counselor would object to extending the timeline back several years."
Fawley nodded. "Overruled. Proceed."
"Thank you, your honor." He turned back to Harry. "Chief Potter, were you raised by a Muggle family for the first ten years of your life?"
Harry gritted his teeth. Everyone knew he was. "Yes."
"Tell me...did this Muggle family treat you well?"
Harry's eyes flickered to Hermione. She was sitting on the edge of her chair, clutching her quill. Her face was white, her eyes very bright as she looked at him.
He cleared his throat. "It depends on what you mean by—"
"Were they ever verbally abusive towards you?"
"I...many families—"
"Yes or no, please. Were they ever verbally abusive towards you?"
He hesitated. "Yes."
"Did they ever physically harm you? Did they beat you?"
He closed his eyes briefly. "Yes."
He heard the gasps, but kept his eyes on Bruton.
"How many times?"
"Your honor," Hermione almost shouted. "This cannot be relevant!"
"Get to the point, Counselor," Fawley said to Bruton.
"I am, sir. Chief Potter, how many times?"
He clenched his jaw, eyes fixed on Bruton as he blocked out the camera bulbs, the trembling quills, her stricken face.
"I don't know if I can put a number on it," he said gruffly.
"Because there were so many? Or because you were so young when it started?"
He said nothing.
"Tell me," said Bruton quietly, for the chamber had fallen silent again, "did your Muggle family own a gun?"
Harry saw a hut on a sea-soaked rock.
"Yes."
"Who owned it?"
"My uncle."
Bruton nodded. "Just one more question. Did your uncle ever threaten a wizard with that gun?"
Harry almost laughed. He was good.
"Yes."
The chamber again exploded into shouts and cries. Bruton smirked as he turned from Harry.
"No more questions, your honor."
Fawley banged his gavel on the bench for nearly half a minute, trying to restore order. Harry desperately wanted to get off the stand. He looked over at Hermione. She was still watching him, oblivious to Lakey and Emi as they whispered urgently to her.
Fawley turned to her table.
"Counselor Granger, do you wish to redirect?"
She stood shakily. "I do, your honor."
She walked towards him, the chamber going still.
"Harry," she said, and he wasn't sure if she'd forgotten to use his title, "do some Muggle families abuse their children?"
"Yes," he said quietly.
"Do some magical families abuse their children?"
"Yes."
"How do you know that?"
"Unfortunately, I see it all the time. All Aurors do."
She nodded. "Do you think that's the case with the Cameron family?"
"I do not."
She nodded again, unable to meet his eyes. "Thank you, Chief Potter. No further questions."
"You may step down, Mr. Potter."
Harry did so as the chamber filled with whispers once more. He returned to his seat next to Ron, whose face was blotchy red. He gripped Harry's knee tightly when he sat down.
"You were great," he said through clenched teeth.
Harry released a slow breath as Hermione called the next witness.
The Auror Augustus Pyke discharged his duty as a witness well. He was an expert in spell forensics and Priori Incantatem, which he had studied at the American wizarding university for many years. Hermione's greatest challenge was ensuring his answers were intelligible for a non-expert audience. Bruton did not seek to cross-examine.
It was close to noon when Hermione called the third witness.
"Your honor," she said, "the Ministry calls Annaisa Wilkes to the stand."
Annie stood and glided towards the dais.
Ron elbowed him. "She's the—"
"Shut up," he muttered.
Ron might have smirked.
Annie looked much the same as when Harry last saw her at Stonehouse. She wore sleek black robes and her eyes were heavily lined. She was very small with high cheekbones and short black hair cut at a hard angle.
After the oath, Hermione smiled at the diminutive witch, who looked indifferently around the majestic room.
"Ms. Wilkes," she said, "could you please state your current occupation for the court?"
"I'm an independent consultant," she said in her low lilting voice. "I specialize in the performance and analysis of magical evaluations."
"How long have you been performing magical evaluations?"
"Over twenty years."
"Did you perform a magical evaluation on the defendant, Theodonus Callahan, on September 4, 2017?"
"I did."
"Did he consent to the procedure?"
"He did."
"Can you tell the court what a magical evaluation entails?"
She sighed almost impatiently. "It's a combination of a priori Legilimency and a magical deconstruction of the psyche. It allows the evaluator to go back through a subject's magical issuances, including whether the subject was under the Imperious Curse or any other curse, potion, or enchantment that may have impacted his or her decision-making around a particular event."
"Just to be sure I understand," Hermione said for the audience, "a magical evaluation can conclusively determine whether someone was under the Imperious Curse at a specific date and time?"
"Yes."
"How accurate are magical evaluations?"
"Extremely," she said shortly, as if Hermione was casting aspersions on her chosen line of work. "The procedure has been rigorously studied and has been found to be accurate."
Hermione nodded, a small smile pulling at her lips. "We just heard from Mr. Pyke that the defendant's wand issued a number of spells on the night of August 29th. These included the Memory Charm, the Cruciatus Curse, Legilimency, the Incarcerous Spell, and several anti-deception charms. Did your magical evaluation confirm the same?"
"Yes," she said. "All those spells appeared in the evaluation of Mr. Callahan."
Hermione nodded again. She said her next question clearly and slowly. "Was Mr. Callahan under the Imperious Curse on the night of August 29th?"
"No, he was not."
Again, murmurs filled the room. Harry looked at Callahan, who was staring off towards the doors of the chamber.
"Was he under any other spell, curse, enchantment, or potion on the night of August 29th?"
"He was not."
"Thank you, Ms. Wilkes."
Hermione moved slowly towards her table, seemingly finished. But then, she glanced at Harry before her eyes flicked to Lakey. The older wizard gave her a questioning look, but she turned her back on him.
"Just one more question," she said evenly. "Have you ever heard the defendant, Theo Callahan, use the term 'mudblood?'"
Bruton jumped to his feet. "Objection, your honor! The words someone says immediately after a magical evaluation are inadmissible in court. Counselor Granger knows that. She is willfully trying to poison the court against my client! I demand the last question be struck from the record!"
Fawley slammed his gavel as the audience whispered to one another.
"So stricken," said Fawley. "Counselor Granger, I am warning you. There will be no mention of anything the defendant said after the evaluation."
Hermione lowered her head, seemingly chastened. But Harry saw the spark in her eyes.
"He did say it," Annie said quite plainly. "He called you a mudblood. He said we would be better off without your kind."
The courtroom exploded.
"Order!" shouted Fawley. "I will have order!"
Bruton was apoplectic. He charged to the bench and gesticulated wildly at Fawley, his jowls shivering ponderously like an enraged blood hound.
"Order!" Fawley thundered. "Counselor Granger, my chambers at once!"
And court was adjourned.
Like she'd been called to detention, Hermione spared a last look at a stunned Lakey and Emi before she followed Fawley through the side door. To Harry, she had that same look in her eye as when she jinxed a sixteen-year-old girl with spots that never really faded...
"Blimey," Ron breathed as Annie stepped down from the stand as if nothing strange at all had happened. "Do you think Hermione knew she'd say that?"
Harry tried to suppress his smile, but it was very hard.
"I reckon it was a gamble."
"What's it like to be censured?" he asked quietly.
They were in the gallery. Harry leaned against one of the pillars to shield her from the ever-present photographers. Ron had left five minutes ago. The trial would resume after lunch.
She smiled. "Best telling off I ever got."
"You were brilliant."
She shook her head. "No, you were. I..."
But whatever she meant to say, she couldn't seem to finish. Her eyes were very bright when she looked at him.
"I've got to head back," he said softly. "I've been gone too long."
She nodded, studying her shoes.
"Listen," he said lowly. "With everything going on, don't worry about tomorrow. If you've got to keep working..."
But she shook her head again, curls shining in the weak sunlight from above. The storm had passed.
"No, it's all right. I can get away."
He nodded. "When, then?"
"I'm giving the team off after lunch. How about two?"
"Okay."
They watched one another for a moment. And that charged bead of warmth seemed to grow between them, like a catching fire.
"Tomorrow, then."
"Tomorrow."