Chapter 16
"Harry, my boy, it is so good to see you once more. You gave everyone quite the scare."
Harry shook his head in resignation as Albus too many bloody names Dumbledore walked across the pitch. His smile was as ingenuine as any of his past praise.
"Thank you, Chief Warlock Dumbledore, for volunteering," Harry's head came up and his smile was predatory. It was payback time. "It is brave of you to volunteer to defend the Witches and Wizards of Britain before the Lord and Lady of Magic. But it is not fair to judge so many on the basis of one man, shall anyone else step forward to represent your people?"
"I... What?" Dumbledore's stride faltered, shocked at his 'volunteering'.
"That is why you stepped forward and interrupted their business, is it not? If not, it would be the height of rudeness and presumption to interrupt the Lord and Lady of Magic," Hermione challenged, stepping up beside Harry. "It is rather rude to dismiss their matters as insignificant and ignore them for your own dealings, is it not? Surely you were not trying to pursue your own goals at their expense, were you?"
"I...er… of course not," Albus gathered himself, and the couple could see his mind grasping at the glory he could reap for defending everyone. "I would be honored to represent the magicals beings of Britain."
"No, you misunderstand." Harry's voice was conciliatory, yet there was an edge of happiness in it. "You are to represent just the witches and wizards, the rest of the magical beings will sit as witness and as accusers. It is the humans of this land who are the transgressors against Magic, against their fellow magical beings, and it is they who stand trial now."
"I see no other volunteers, so we shall choose two more to defend the honor of the witches and wizards of Britain. The first is relatively young, yet has earned a reputation for following the rules, though sometimes to his detriment. He can quote just about every rule or law there is, but still needs to learn to let go once in a while. I call Percy Weasley to defend Magical Britain against the charges of this court."
Silence reigned as heads turned to and fro, searching for the boy. Finally, tripping over himself because his nose was so high up, the git made his way across the grounds to stand beside Dumbledore. Hermione could have mistook him for a peacock the way he was preening.
"We need one more, I think," Harry considered, rubbing his chin. "We have someone from the Wizengamot, and the previous educational establishment. We also have someone from the Ministry, but these are potentially elitist selections, the upper crust if you will. We need someone who knows the common man, the witch in the street so to speak."
"I think I know one, love," Hermione placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, then looked out over the assembled witches and wizards. "A simple shop owner, one who has served, I think, every man and woman here. He has undoubtedly listened to many stories and understands the views and beliefs of the wizards and witches of Britain. Florean Fortescue, please step forward."
"If I may," the gentle old man asked from where he stood up. "What am I defending against? What are we accused of?"
"A good question, and I note you are the first to ask it," Harry smiled kindly, before he returned his gaze to the rest of the crowd. "The humans of Magical Britain are accused of bigotry, of abuse of their gifts and of others. They have taken their magic as a sign of their superiority over everyone else and treated everyone else as inferior, even those humans they deem as unworthy."
"I would be a rather poor defender against those charges," Florean spoke up, a wry grin on his face. "To defend properly, one must believe in the innocence of those they defend. I think they are guilty, so I would be biased against rather than for."
"I see. I respect your honesty, and the courage to say so," Harry nodded. They glanced around again. "How about this, we let them decide. Who would you have to defend you against these accusations? Who would be your champion? Who would you choose to be your example, your best defender?"
Many names were shouted, many many names, but very few were pleasant individuals. Finally, Harry had heard enough and raised his hand to call for silence. Once the clamoring died down, he addressed the stadium.
"I've heard many names, some more than others. For a start, I will tell you that Lucius Malfoy is unavailable. He faced his own trial, and was found wanting. He is currently facing his own punishment for specific transgressions. As for Minister Thicknesse, well, are you sure that's who you want to defend you? He hasn't had time to collect appropriate bribes to dictate his stance after all. In fact, his true master lies there, dead," Harry stated as he waved at the dusting of Voldemort's remains.
More shouts answered, ranging from decries of Thicknesse's innocence to affirmations in the form of 'He's our Minister' and the likes.
"Very well, Pius Thicknesse, your people have spoken. Please step forward and defend them." Harry watched as an officious and short man bustled forward, a familiar pink form waddling along behind him.
"Ah, I was unaware that the Minister was two people. You," Harry indicated the pudgy man in a pinstripe robe. "I recognize. You," he turned to Umbridge. "I also recognize, though I honestly thought you were a successful toad to human transfiguration when you usurped the Headship of Hogwarts. You are not the Minister however, so you will leave."
"I will do no such thing, I am Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and will not be parted from him. He needs my advice and I will stay by him, you insolent ungrateful wretch."
"So you seem to speak for the Minister. Odd that. Usually, those in charge dictate to their underlings, not the other way around. But it's no skin off my back. You want to be here? Fine, you shall share with your precious Minister," Hermione's eyes hardened, and power cracked through her hair as her expression became deadly. "However, you will remain civil and courteous. This is for the lives of the people, not to advance whatever agenda you have. You will be treated with respect so long as you treat others with that same respect. Become hostile or excessive, and you will be stopped."
"Now, see here you ungrateful bitch. I will not be dictated to like that. I am Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, you twat. I will treat gutter scum like you however I damn well please! I am a proper pureblood witch, not some filthy slag creature whelped from twixt poxed thighs. I'll see you dead before this is-"
Silence filled the stadium as Umbridge's head left her shoulders. The flick of Hermione's blade had been so swift that no one had seen it until it was over. It had actually hit the overweight witch at the word 'dead', but the bloody woman hadn't realized she was already dead until her neck separated from her shoulders. The physics of the human body and residual nerve commands kept the body upright for a second, just long enough for her head to hit the dirt of the pitch before it too crumpled to the earth. The shocked expressions on the faces of the other representatives of the British wizarding establishment turned a little green at the apparently callous murder. Hermione ignored them as she pushed magic through her blade to clean the foul woman's blood from it and sheathed it. Turning back to them she finally noticed their expressions.
"What?" she demanded. "She just threatened to kill me."
"I'm sure that-"
"I'm sure anything you say now will be as worthless as any of the other platitudes you espoused in your life," Harry cut Dumbledore off. "I will point out that had Miss Umbridge been a muggleborn and my wife a so-called pureblood, nothing more would have been said." He turned back to the beings still seated calmly at the center of the field. "And that is one of the many reasons Magic suffers so in Britain. The notion that any with your gracious gift are less deserving and less important because of who their parents are."
"That is a rather gross over-exaggeration, Harry," Dumbledore began, only to be cut off once more.
"Mr Weasley, you know the laws and as you are the Recorder for the Wizengamot, you have access to the practical records of that judicial establishment. For a pureblood to claim self-defense, which a proclamation to do one harm allows, what is the lawful and historical punishment for a so-called pureblood killing a newblood and a newblood killing a so-called pureblood?"
"I'm unfamiliar with the term newblood."
"It's a much less offensive word for those you term muggleborn. The term muggle is derived from the base word mug, which refers to one of unusually low intelligence. It's an insult and derogatory," Hermione educated him as effectively as Professor McGonagall would have.
"In that case," he flushed, though not in embarrassment. "The muggleborn would likely be sent to Azkaban for a term of no less than fifty years, possibly kissed, depending on the severity of the assault."
"And the pureblood? Would they also be sent to Azkaban?" Harry pressed, and this time Percy did have the decency to flush in embarrassment.
"No, the word of a pureblood that it was entirely self-defense would see them let free. The muggleborns don't understand the wizarding world, and often overreact and become violent. These outbursts cannot be excused."
"So why aren't they educated on the differences between the non-magical world and wizarding Britain, former Headmaster Dumbledore? Would that not be a better track to take than to merely throw them in the hell you call Azkaban?" Harry turned on the old wizard, and Dumbledore flinched at the accusation.
"I have thought several times to -"
"Not what I asked," Harry was on a roll. "But since we're already there, how many times have you specifically tried to get such a class added? I don't mean to just think about it, I mean actually asked about introducing the class?"
"I… once," the old man's shoulders sagged in defeat. He recognized the magic about them, and knew there was no point in lying.
"When was that?" Hermione joined the fray. Dumbledore muttered under his breath. "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you."
"I said in 1908," he finally admitted.
"What about other initiatives? Have you added it as part of the new student orientation that newbloods receive when they first are told of magic? What about improving the insultingly named Muggle Studies course so it showed the newbloods just didn't know any better because of their background? Or worked to change the laws so there isn't any differentiation in punishments due to blood status? Anything?"
"No."
"So you're saying that for the last ninety years, you have taken no more action to try to prevent such so-called misunderstandings from occurring? That you knowingly let those without knowledge, one could almost say those deliberately denied vital information, be treated as less than others?"
"I wouldn't say that," Dumbledore spoke up again, only to have it squashed before him.
"Of course you wouldn't, you would blame others, claim it was someone else blocking it, anything but to accept you were a party to the wholesale judicial murder of innocents," Harry raged, power washing out from him. "I have a better question, one no one I've asked has been able to answer."
Magic flared, and a table appeared before them. From a pocket, Hermione withdrew four vials, marked one through four, each containing a red liquid. She placed them on the table, in a row, then stepped back.
"Before you are four vials of blood, each taken from a different so-called blood status. A pureblood, a half-blood, a newblood, and a mundane. Which is which?"
"I beg your pardon?" Dumbledore looked aghast at the vials, like they were an affront to everything he held dear.
"Everyone in Britain makes so much noise about pure blood and how much better it is. Well, which of these samples is pure? Which is from a mundane? A newblood? How do you define how pure someone's blood really is?"
"That really is a bit far afield of our discussion," Dumbledore temporized, "And rather unseemly."
"Ah, the 'you have no defense so change the subject' act. Very well, we'll accept that you can't differentiate the samples and move on," Hermione smiled as she waved her hand and the table disappeared. "Let's move on to your treatment of others. Goblins, do you say they have any less right to their magic than you do?"
"The Ministry classifies goblins as magical creatures of near human intelligence," Thicknesse finally spoke up. "As such, they have their own unique place in society."
"You have not answered my question," Hermione replied, eyes boring into the Minister's. "Or maybe you did, calling them creatures. Would it then surprise you to know that goblins score, on average, roughly equal to mundanes on a standardized intelligence test?"
"So you equate goblins with muggles?" snorted Pius. "Like I said, near human intelligence."
"What does that make you then? Because the average wizard in Britain scores fifteen percent lower than either." Harry asked, and watched the Minister's face turn almost as green as the grass. "In fact, for the most part, witches and wizards score lower than dragons, centaurs, and even house-elves on this test."
"Obviously it is flawed then," Percy decried. "Everyone knows wizards are far superior."
"Let's test that then, shall we?" Hermione challenged. "You are well versed in the laws, tell me this: Why is the wizards' bank, the backbone of your economy, run by beings you constantly fight with during their so-called rebellions?"
"The treaty of 1612…"
"So you finally read it?"
"As I was saying, the treaty of 1612 requires it," Percy answered shortly.
"Let's finish that statement, shall we? The treaty of 1612 requires it as a stopgap to prevent further excessive aggression by the Ministry against the goblin Nation," Hermione smiled at Percy. "Yet, you think you won those scuffles. Moving on, let's look at some of your own, werewolves. Lycanthropy cannot be contracted by any other magical being. How do you classify them?"
"They are dangerous creatures, of course. They're diseased and a danger to others," Thicknesse seemed affronted that she had classified them as wizards.
"You require them to register and lock them up or kill them if they don't take the Wolfsbane potion, which is effectively a poison to them, correct?" Harry asked, focusing on Percy.
"That is the law, and the Wolfsbane potion helps repress the baser and more aggressive instincts of the werewolf when they transform," the redhead seemed angry.
"Belladonna, a key ingredient in Wolfsbane potion, is lethal to wolves you nitwit," Hermione snarked. "But moving on past your ignorance, there is another issue. The expense of the potion is rather prohibitive, and requires exacting ability to brew. Yet you prohibit werewolves from holding jobs. You refuse to allow them the ability to earn a living or pay for the required potion, then label them as criminals when they can't afford it."
"It is not the Ministry's job to ensure they find work," Thicknesse stated officiously.
"You passed legislation to actively impede their ability to have a job. Hell, they can't even teach, despite Remus Lupin being the best Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor Hogwarts has had in the last decade. The year he taught saw a seventeen percent increase in the average OWL and NEWT scores," Harry declared, yet Percy scoffed at him.
"He was a danger to everyone in that school. A werewolf should not be allowed around other people, much less children," the redhead declared hotly.
"He was safe enough for the ten months he taught," the hot retort rocked Weasley on his heels. "Your personal score in Defense came up twenty-one percent that year. Are you saying he was a danger to you when he taught you so much? You never even knew he was a werewolf until a childhood rival decided to be petty and tell his students. Funnily enough, we have since learned that the one incident where there was any potential for issues was when that same rival was intentionally late delivering Mr Lupin's Wolfsbane."
"What's more," Hermione took up the cause. "Mr Lupin is back teaching once more, and is one of the most popular instructors. Part of his employment contract is a required sequestration on the days he is afflicted, along with a guarantee of Wolfsbane brewed by the school's potions master or mistress. A plan has evolved to cover any classes, and it was the students' choice to give up weekend time following his transformations to make it up with him rather than have other instructors cover his classes. What does it say that the students would rather he teach them?"
"You must dismiss him at once, he cannot be allowed to work near children," the Minister demanded hotly.
"Says who? You? You have no children at the school, by what right do you demand this?" Hermione challenged.
"It's the law!"
"Mr Weasley?" she prompted, and Percy flushed.
"Actually, it isn't, Minister. Mr Lupin is registered, and if he takes the Wolfsbane and is removed from the premises during his transformation, he has complied with the law," Percy looked like the words left a bad taste in his mouth.
"You seem to be using rather specific examples," Dumbledore pointed out, his face covered in his grandfatherly veneer.
"Okay, you volunteered to represent the magicals of Britain, why don't we use you?"
"Me?"
"Yes you, former Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Former Supreme Mugwump of the ICW," Hermione listed his titles, noting the pleased look seeping into his face. "Order of Merlin First class, defeater of Grindelwald, the only one Voldemort feared. You seem like the person many would aspire to be like."
"Well, when you put it like that…"
"Great, let's start early in your life. When you were Deputy Head in nineteen thirty-seven, you were the one to bring young Tom Riddle his Hogwarts letter, were you not?"
"I…" confusion plastered itself over Albus' face at the unexpected question. "Yes, I did."
"Did you note anything unusual about the boy? Any warning flags he may not be a normal child?"
"I'm not sure what you are referring to, every child is different, unique."
"True, but not every child has a history of theft and outright terrorization of his peers. Tom did. Did you address this issue, show him why it was not moral or right? Or did you instead inspire him to hide it better?" Harry gazed at the old man, and Dumbledore felt the compulsion to speak truth without qualifiers.
"In hindsight, yes, it probably inspired more security and caution in his activities, but I can hardly-"
"Hardly be blamed? You set his bloody wardrobe on fire and tried to scare him," Harry scythed. "But let's move on. When Tom opened the Chamber of Secrets, another student was implicated, by him, of the death of Myrtle Warren. Rubeus Hagrid was caught with an Acromantula, an invasive and dangerous species to be sure, but utterly incapable of killing without a mark. An Acromantula kills by first paralyzing its victim with its bite, then spinning it in a cocoon that slowly digests them. Yet Hagrid was convicted, in absentia since this was before he was even arrested, and expelled. What did you do for him?"
"I gave him work, assisting the caretaker in his duties. Eventually he became Keeper of Grounds and Keys, even becoming our Care of Magical Creatures professor as you recall," Albus seemed to think his answer superb.
"Yes, you failed to defend him then used his circumstances to indebt him to you. You never defended him, you never tried to get his conviction overturned, even after fifty years and the proof that it could not be him. You even stood by while the Ministry," Harry gestured to the Minister. "Arrested him and sent him straight to Azkaban just to be seen doing something. Even after it was proven he had not been guilty, you made no effort to overturn his conviction or return his wand rights, did you?"
"I… no," Albus hung his head, he really couldn't deny this one.
"How did you kill Grindelwald?"
Silence fell over the crowd. Most looked confused as everyone knew it had been an epic and protracted magical battle. Yet Dumbledore looked shocked, staring with eyes wide in fear at Hermione.
"He… I…" Dumbledore tried, hard, to avoid answering honestly. He failed. "I didn't."
Gasps from the audience.
"You didn't defeat him?"
"No." In that instant of admission, Dumbledore seemed to age fifty years. "I used our prior relationship to slip him a sleeping draught. I then imprisoned him in Nurmengard. I still visit him every year."
"Previous relationship?"
"We were lovers after school," Dumbledore hated to admit this, fought to deny it, yet the magic around him never let him say anything but the truth. Over the next hour, everything he had done, every plot and contingency were laid bare. His use of the Voldemort crisis to gain power. The attempt to get young Harry murdered to complete the prophecy and let him defeat the 'Dark Lord'. His use of spells and potions to compel obedience and loyalty. His intentional ignoring of Sirius' innocence, allowing him to place Harry in an abusive environment. His attempts to get Harry killed, including his knowledge of what was in the Chamber and who had really opened it. His forgiveness policy to continue the cycle of violence for him to 'fix' to grow his reputation and power. The callous sacrifices of others for his 'greater good' which he admitted was merely what was best for him. His promotion of wizard superiority laws while espousing the equality line he was famous for. Years of manipulations and lies were laid before everyone, and the once pillar of the light was now drug through the mud.
Eventually, Zir put a stop to it.
"I have heard enough." Harry and Hermione turned and took knees as he rose to address the magical beings of Britain. "It is clear the magical humans of Britain have lost sight of the gift they have been given if these are their champions. They no longer feel the blessing of my wife's gift but deem it their right, and deny others that have received it. Some do not, but most don't even consider it, they think it their right to vilify and lord over other creatures blessed with her gift. Even those who acknowledge the gift abuse it, becoming lazy and thinking themselves better than everyone else. They call their equals Creatures and dictate to them how they must live, they spit upon those not born to 'old' families, claiming they are the wrong in their society when they could lead them to greatness.
"Magical Britain has lost the right to this gift. It has failed in its stewardship and must relearn its place among the equals of all magical beings. From this day forth, every witch and wizard shall be Judged upon their sixteenth year. Their hearts and minds shall dictate if they have their gifts reduced or left as my wife would have them.
"This is my will, so mote it be."
With those words, almost every man and woman in the stands staggered. A long, low moan seemed to erupt from everyone as fatigue settled over them, strength left them, and their magic evaporated. Several fell over, a few fainted, and yet here and there, some individuals were unaffected. They looked around in confusion as those around them seemed to be hit with mild stunners, staggering and clutching themselves.
"Now for the pillars of your society. Percival Ignatius Wesley, you have always thought the rules were perfect, absolute. So your punishment is thus: Never again will you be able to break a rule. You will follow every regulation and law magical Britain has and you must follow them to the letter. Every single one.
"Pius Sebastian Thicknesse, your actions have condemned and discriminated against pretty much everyone here. Your greed and ambition motivated you to ensure you were the only one with the opportunities you desired. To correct that, in the eyes of everyone in Britain you are now a, how would you phrase it, ah yes, A half-breed muggleborn. Every law you spent your life passing to oppress others now applies to you. In fact, I do believe you are now removed from your position as Minister since it requires you to be pureblood.
"And finally, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." Zir turned from the near hysterical Thicknesse to the wizard whose legend had been systematically torn apart for the last two hours. "You have lied and manipulated nigh everyone in your life, past and present. No more. You will be housed in a protected cell in the Ministry Atrium for the rest of your natural life. You might think this an easy punishment, yet you would be wrong. For you will be under the same truth compulsion you are now, every day, for the rest of your life. Everyone will be allowed to speak to you, to ask you questions, and you will answer them. You will not be able to hide, you will not be able to lie, and everyone can ask you anything they wish.
"So I Say" Zir incanted, and the magic of the arena pulsed.
"So mote it be," his wife finished, and the magic pulsed away. As it swept away from them, everyone it passed was swept away save Harry and Hermione. The trio of defenders went first, flickering as the wave crashed over them. Then it hit the stands and a torrent of light coursed through them. Humans, goblins and centaurs disappeared in cracks of apparition. The house-elves' little balloons vanished in small pops. When it hit the mermaid tank, it enveloped it in a sphere of power that collapsed in on itself, taking the merfolk with them. The dragons and other flying creatures became shooting stars, whisked away from the stadium, leaving silence to fall over the four remaining beings in the center.
"Well done, my children," Hekate spoke to the couple softly. "You surpassed our expectations here."
"Tell us that when they learn from it," Hermione said sadly, staring into the empty stands. "It is only a success if they learn and change because of it."
"A fair point, though you have done very well," Zir placed a gentle hand on each of their shoulders. "I know you wish you could rest, and you deserve it, but there is still work to be done."
"We know, we knew when we agreed to be your voice on earth that it would take time for us to get to the point of just being us," Harry sighed, pulling his wife closer.
"We know, but we also know that when you are ready, when you do settle down, the world will be a better place, a place worthy of the children you will have. A place worthy of magic and the glory that is." Hekate gently kissed each of their foreheads. "But now is not yet that time."
"It is time to go, our champions," Zir rose, his voice harder yet not harsh. His hand rose and a simmering portal appeared before them. "Capetown and the Coven of Kybato await you."