A/N: I own nothing, just the idea of the story itself…
Census
Part 1
Present Day
"You are charged with the following Indictments…"
Tiberius Ogden, representative for Great Britain, aged 147, widowed, 2 daughters, 1 son, 1 granddaughter (6th year). Crippling gout in left foot, arthritic, right pinky no longer bends. Estimated time left: 10 years.
"Theft of confidential files from the Department of Mysteries…"
Griselda Marchbanks, presiding representative for Great Britain, aged 163, married to Angus Marchbanks, together they have 2 sons, 4 grandchildren, and one great-grandchild. Blind in her left eye, severe atrophy in her left arm, scratchy voice due to excessive coughing and scarring from a case of Scrofungulus. Estimated time left: 2 years.
"... Improper use of Magic in front of Muggle Government Officials, Resisting Arrest and Assault of a Magical Law Enforcement Agent…"
The chains tightened on that one. Even this blasted chair had opinions on the seriousness of crimes. The chair was a high back, wooden atrocity, and exceedingly uncomfortable. Criminals don't deserve comfort here. Courtroom Ten was the most depressing room for anyone to endure; criminals, Wizengamot, witnesses, even the Council on the International Confederation of Wizards were all subject to the dark humidity that seeped from the stone walls. Would it kill them to add a little more light? For crying out loud, Marchbanks was holding the paper at the end of her nose.
To the left, Sidley Pickerton, representative for Canada tucked a flyaway strand of gray hair under her plum hat. She was one of the youngest in the room. Aged 54, not married, no children and no illnesses recorded, she was one of the healthiest. Too bad the name Pickerton would die with her.
Then there was Heinrich Speilman, odd fellow, worked for the Committee of Experimental Charms before it was merged with the Department of Mysteries. He worked in what they called 'The Brain Room.' The tank in which held the brains of notable witches and wizards to be examined and probed for different spells and charms performed in the past. His job was to modify and adapt ancient spells that could now be classified as volatile, into something more manageable for everyday use. Poor soul was covered in scars from both the brains and the aftermath of spells gone wrong. Most notably, the scars on his forehead from where there were once horns. Speilman was 78, represented Germany, separated from his wife, he has very little contact with his only daughter after a spell went wrong in the house. Some say it had a lasting effect on her mental state. Besides the loss of contact from his family, and being subject to various enchantments on a daily basis, his estimated time left was roughly 30 years.
"Lastly, and the most heinous, you have broken the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy of 1692, as defined by Clause 7, set forth in 1750, that all wizarding kind, beasts, beings, and spirits, are not to cause harm or draw immediate attention of the Muggle world to the Wizarding World in which we reside. You have informed not only the Muggle communities in Great Britain, but those surrounding it, including the United States, Canada, Mexico, almost all of Europe and reaching as far as Russia."
The chains tightened their grip once again, now threatening the circulation to the hands and feet. The rustled lightly, as though a breeze had passed through the room. Damn chair was enjoying its time in the spotlight. Who knows the last person it held so tightly…
"There has not been a breach this severe since the days of Grindelwald!"
Ahh, Arnold Hummell, the representative from the States. He really needs to learn to control his temper and outbursts. A man his age, 104, and habits, smoking and abhorrent diet, could cause his already high blood pressure to peak. Do wizards know how to help a heart attack? Surely, there must be some magical spell to counter one. But it would be best if the fat oaf sat back down, wouldn't want to strain ourselves, Arnny, besides he had 6 months tops.
"Yes, thank you Mr. Hummell. The accused has been assigned representation and the indictments and counts have been reviewed."
Marchbanks placed the paper she was holding on top of a very large file. The name clearly marked across the front of it, so larger that even she did not need to hold it so close to identify. Folding her hands in front of her and peering above the lens of her glasses.
"How do you plead?"
Laughable. Can that be the answer? No? Innocent, would mean that the acts they described weren't done. They were, there is no doubt about that. Stolen files, yep, took them home, made copies, distributed them even. Performed magic in front of Muggles, seriously, who hasn't? Oh, but in front of important ones that can't know, oops, did that too. Resisting Arrest, that was a bit of a reach, nobody wants to be arrested, and defending yourself against spells that can disarm and contain you was more self defense. But the punch to Auror Crowdy's nose was a bit excessive, yet slightly enjoyable. Breaking International Secrecy...had to...and if they knew what was best for all of them, they would throw this trail in the Atlantic.
Guilty would mean that everything that did happen was wrong. It wasn't, it was for the greater good, as awful as that saying is and the horrible things that had been done under the 'innocence' of the phrase, this time...this time is was to benefit them all. Or there won't be anyone left…
The rattling chains meant the pause was too long. The feeling of the last two fingers on each hand were gone, painful pins and needles had taken over the feet. The chair creaked and cracked with the straightening of the back. Eyes cast down in one last decision. Innocent or Guilty?
Clear brown eyes met with the blue cataracts of the elder witch.
"Hermione Granger? How do you plead?"
Jaw set, inhale, smile.
"Guilty."