Authors' note: You'll recognize some of the dialogue below that was lifted directly from Chapter 8: The Hearing, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

[Break]

He stood listening to the room, keenly aware from the slight shufflings and shiftings that it was full of people all looking at him and they were arranged in a rising auditorium that surrounded him on all sides. He could hear something that sounded like metal chains clinking together in a breeze from a platform to his left. But the air was heavy and still.

He resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair or straighten his robes and held his cane in front of him like a staff.

"You're late!" a cold male voice rang through the hall.

"I'm sorry," Harry stammered. "I didn't know the time had changed."

"That is not the Wizengamot's fault. An owl was sent to you this morning. Take a seat."

Harry stood for a moment then lifted his cane as a reminder. "Excuse me, sir, but where is the seat?"

"That one. Now take it."

Harry pointed up toward the sounds of chains, "That one?"

"Yes, stop delaying."

Harry turned toward the sound of the chair and swept his cane in front of him. His neck grew hot as he encountered a wall and followed it until he found protruding steps. Mutterings broke out and he heard words that made him grind his teeth. "Can't see! Blind!"

He navigated to the front of them and climbed them to the top of the platform. The platform was enormous and empty, but the rustling chains helped him locate the chair and he settled into it. He half expected the chains to wrap themselves around him as he sat, but they just shook a bit more then resumed their gentle clanking as if they didn't want him to forget that they were there.

Harry took his time folding his cane and held it across his knees. He sat up straight and pointed his nose in the direction the voice had come from, expectantly.

"Very well. The accused being present—finally—let us begin. Are you ready?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but then an eager voice answered, "Yes, sir!" The voice was so familiar, but it took a moment for Harry to place it. Could it be Percy Weasely who sounded oddly gleeful? He'd heard him utter that phrase enough as Gryffindor's prefect and then Head Boy. Betrayal stabbed through Harry's gut as he turned toward Percy's voice.

He wondered who else he knew in this room. Was Professor Dumbledore even here?

"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," the unctuous voice stated authoritatively. A quill scratched across parchment as Cornelius Oswald Fudge identified himself (as Minister of Magic) and as he named the others sitting in judgment of Harry… Someone Bones of part of Magical Law Enforcement and someone Umbridge, who was some sort of Undersecretary, Harry realized that he had stopped breathing. The Minister of Magic was running this trial.

Surely, this wasn't normal procedure? It would be like the Prime Minister leading a case on Youth Court. As he sucked in a breath and gripped his cane tightly in his daze of disbelief, Harry was surprised to learn that Percy's middle name was Ignatius.

Then Harry jumped as a quiet voice behind him and below the platform, reverberated around the amphitheater, "Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." His fingers relaxed on his cane as Professor Dumbledore's quiet footsteps padded up the stairs.

"Ah, Dumbledore. Er… You… er… I see you got our message…?" Minister Fudge's confidence seemed to have shriveled up.

"No, I didn't. Fortunately, I was already at the Ministry on other business when I heard that the time and place had inexplicably changed and I came straight away."

"Er, yes. You'll be needing a chair… Weas…"

"No need to fuss," There was a pop of magic and the sound of wooden legs of a chair settling onto the stone floor beside Harry. Dumbledore's robes rustled crisply as he sank into it and an expectant silence grew as murmurings quieted throughout the chamber.

"Yes," Fudge said, moving papers around. "Yes, so the charges." A quill scratched against parchment from Percy's location.

The Minister sucked in a deep breath and read the charges… that the accused did knowingly and willingly produce a Patronus in a muggle-inhabited area in full view of a muggle, despite receiving previous warning from the Ministry in a similar situation years earlier. And that these offenses violated the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery as well as the International Confederation of Wizard's Statute of Secrecy.

"You are Harry James Potter, of Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?" the Minister questioned.

"Er, yes, but…" Harry said, wanting to add that his real address was Grimmauld Place.

"You received an official warning from the Ministry three years ago, did you not?"

"Yes, but…"

"And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night in question, in front of muggles?"

"Yes, but…"

"Knowing that you're not permitted to use magic outside of school while you are under the age of seventeen?"

"Yes, but…"

"Knowing that there were muggles present?"

"Yes, but…"

"Fully aware that there was a muggle in close proximity?"

"Yes!" Harry spat, " but I only used it because we were…"

An ancient booming voice cut him off from high above and across the courtroom, "You produced a fully-fledged Patronus?"

"Yes," said Harry, turning his head in her direction, "because…"

"A corporeal Patronus?" she asked again.

"A what?" Harry's brows knitted together.

"Your Patronus. It is clearly defined? I mean to say that it is more than vapor or smoke?"

"Yes, it is a stag. I can hear the hooves and it snorts," Harry explained. "Everyone says it is a stag."

"You've produced it before? Others have seen it?"

"Yes, I've been doing it for over a year…"

"And you're fifteen-years-old… and blind? Who taught you? How?"

"Yes, Professor Lupin taught me… in my third year. Because of the…"

"Impressive. At your age and without the ability to visualize…"

"I can visualize!" Harry stated, affronted. "I just can't see!"

Muttering rose again throughout the chamber.

"It's not a question of how impressive the magic is," the Minister fumed. "In fact, the more impressive the worse it is! And in front of a muggle, no less!"

There were murmurings in agreement that pushed Harry over the edge, and he shouted before anyone could interrupt him again, "I did it because of the dementors!"

The silence that erupted filled the room with expectation. Harry felt needled by all the eyes that had to be fixed on him.

"Dementors?" The gravelly voice of the woman who'd been grilling him on his Patronus asked. "What do you mean, boy?"

"There were dementors… two I think… and they were after me and my cousin. Chased us."

"Ah, and here we go! I'm not surprised that you've brought us here," the Minister said with an odd laughter in his voice as if it were the funniest joke he'd heard. Harry cocked his head, trying to understand.

"Dementors in Little Whinging?" The stern voice of the woman shook with incredulity. "I don't understand."

"Don't you, Madam Bones?" the Minister asked. "Let me, explain. He's been thinking it through and decided dementors would make a very nice cover story, very nice indeed. Muggles can't see dementors, can they? Boy?"

"Er, I don't know, Minister, but they can feel them, hear them, and smell them just as I can," Harry said.

"Ah ha! That's right! You can't see them either! How could you possibly know they were dementors?" The Minister pounced on this revelation like Crookshanks on a Cornish pixie.

"I'm not lying! There were at least two dementors. Maybe more! They surrounded us from opposite ends of the hedgerow, my cousin said that it got dark really suddenly and it was cold, freezing!"

"Maybe more?! Can you believe this? He doesn't know! He couldn't see the dementors."

"We do, in fact, have another witness to the presence of dementors." Dumbledore's cool voice cut through the Minister's bluster and left him spluttering.

"We haven't time for this…"

Dumbledore quoted the Wizengamot Charter of Rights so affably it sounded like he was reading a recipe for lemon cream tarts and there were several murmurs of agreement from the towering seats. "Is that not right, Madam Bones?"

"That is true, absolutely true," Madam Bones agreed.

"Oh, very well!" Fudge snapped and Harry imagined that his face was turning purple with the amount of fury his words contained. Someone stepped down the stairs in the galley and the heavy door opened slowly.

Harry strained his ears trying to determine who it could be.

Dumbledore was so insistent that Sirius couldn't come and even if it was Sirius, he would have come with me this morning, right? So who could it be? Harry wondered. Who else was at the park that night?

The footsteps that approached were clipped and confident. And familiar. Harry was trying to place them. He'd heard them before. The murmurings around the court quieted. Harry realized he wasn't breathing and took a small sip of air.

The person jogged up the steps to the platform where Harry and Dumbledore were seated, robes swishing around their legs, and there was the familiar popping noise of magic and the feet of another chair settled on the platform on Dumbledore's other side.

Harry breathed in, trying to catch the scent of the person who settled into the chair. This was someone he knew… but he still couldn't place them. His fingers were forming the word "who" subconsciously as his brows knit together, and then Professor Dumbledore's voice erupted next to him.

"I call Feliss Eliot, Auror in the Special Forces Unit, as a witness for the defense!"

Harry's head shot up in surprise and he let out the breath that he didn't realize he was holding. Auror Eliot was there that night? He thought in wonder.

From the murmurings that rustled through the chamber, Harry wasn't the only one who was surprised by this news. Someone near Minister Fudge made an impatient noise, "Hem, hem!" as if to quiet the crowd. It sent shivers from the nape of his neck to the base of his spine.

"Yes, yes! Get on with it!" Minister Fudge stated impatiently while shuffling parchment. "I haven't got all day!"

"Yes, Minister," Auror Eliot said in his smooth voice as if he was appeasing a doting grandparent, rather than offering evidence in front of a full court of the Wizengamot. "On the evening of August the ninth at precisely a quarter past eight, I received a rather frantic summons from Mrs. Arabella Figg, requesting my immediate presence at the Park in Little Whinging, Surrey. As I was in the middle of a sensitive operation as part of my duties in the Special Forces, I was not able to respond immediately, least I jeopardize the mission I was on. After several minutes, I was able to extract myself and apparate to the location mentioned previously. Upon arrival, it was obvious that Mrs. Figg's alarm was warranted as there was clearly a dementor presence in the park."

At this, the room erupted in a confusion of outbursts and chatter. Minister Fudge pounded on his gavel until the room quieted again.

"What do you mean by 'clearly a dementor presence?'" Minister Fudge questioned.

"Not only could I see three distinct dementor shapes, but I could feel their characteristic cold, the sky was obscured with their miasma, and their stench filled my nostrils. But at that moment, as I raced toward them with my wand drawn, a brilliant stag Patronus burst forth and drove them off one at a time, as directed by Harry Potter. Had he not done it, I surely would have. But it was better that he had, because it was clear that his companion had nearly been kissed. I would have arrived too late to prevent the kiss. I followed them as they made their way through the park… Mr. Potter, the large boy—who I learned later was his cousin, Dudley Dursley, and Harry's neighbor, Mrs. Arabella Figg. Once they were safely hidden by the formidable wards at Number 4 Privet Drive, I returned to the park to hunt down the dementors. As they had disappeared, I returned to my mission. Harry and his cousin did not know that I had witnessed the attack as well as Mr. Potter's use of the Patronus that saved them all from a most unpleasant encounter."

"Why on earth would a muggle neighbor of Harry's summon you? And how?" Minister Fudge seemed to be blustering now, grasping at straws and Harry let a small flame of hope light in his gut.

"Mrs. Figg is not a muggle. She contacted me using a handheld scrying mirror that she inherited from her mother. I have the companion mirror because she is my great-aunt."

"What!? We're not aware of a witch living in Little Whinging! Harry Potter is the only known wizard in the area! And the situation is carefully monitored given his history!" Madam Bones interrupted.

"Ah, well, though my Aunt is from a magical family, she does not have magic herself," Auror Eliot explained.

"A Squib? Well, this is preposterous! Are we expected to believe that a Squib had the where-with-all to summon an Auror? A Special Forces Auror at that?" Minister Fudge had clearly risen out of his seat and his voice was projecting around the room.

"A Squib's word in court is admissible evidence, Minister. Or do I need to remind you of section seven of…" Professor Dumbledore was cut off.

"I am well aware of the articles you mention, so, no, you do not! And as the Squib in question is not present…"

"I am happy to call Mrs. Figg as a witness as well," Professor Dumbledore offered blithely.

"That is not necessary!" Minister Fudge sputtered.

"My question for you, Auror Eliot, maybe more to the point. Why did you allow this matter to evolve into a full trial before the Wizengamot?" Madam Bones interjected.

"Ah, yes. Well, I did bring my observations to the attention of the Minister's office when I heard that charges were being pressed against Mr. Potter rather than investigating why there were dementors on the loose," Auror Eliot said.

"What? There is no such thing on record!" Minister Fudge announced.

"I suspected as much when I learned that the trial was still scheduled. So I took the liberty of bringing not only my memory of submitting my observations to Senior Undersecretary Umbridge, but also those of the night in question," Auror Eliot said while rummaging in his cloak for some clinking glass bottles that he set on a table that Harry didn't know was at the front of the stage.

"Very well, bring forth the Court Pensieve," Minister Fudge said in a resigned voice.

"Yes, Minister!" Percy Weasley seemed to trip in his haste to fetch the object.

"No! No. That will not be necessary," came a treacly female voice that Harry had not heard before. This woman sounded cornered and defensive, and Harry wondered if she would strike like a badger or a snake. She did neither.

"Auror Eliot did indeed come to me with his tale but as I was out all the rest of the day on… Ahem… Ministry business, I was not able to pass the information along." She did not sound the least bit apologetic. Percy's quill began to scratch frantically as she spoke.

"And this Ministry Business?" asked Dumbledore with a hint of frost in his tone.

"Why, Professor Dumbledore," her words held an insincere sweetness that surprised Harry. "I was actually doing you a favor!"

"How is that?" Dumbledore's voice was bland, but Harry caught the very slightest undercurrent of tension in it.

"I was interviewing the additional staff you'll need for the upcoming school year," she said sweetly. "Amycus and Alecto Carrow will make a well-qualified addition to the Hogwarts roster, will they not? And they have so very graciously agreed to take a year's leave from Durmstrang to join us."

There was a little murmur that ran around the room. Harry felt a shock of surprise that Dumbledore wasn't allowed to hire staff himself, and apparently he wasn't the only one. Feliss Eliot shifted uneasily in his chair.

Harry expected an angry or surprised retort from Dumbledore but he merely replied evenly, "Ahh, thank you for explaining, Madame Undersecretary."

Harry wondered why he wasn't protesting, but his attention was diverted by Feliss Eliot rising.

"If the Wizengamot will forgive me," he said, "I have a pressing mission which is not yet complete. If my testimony is finished, I ask leave to depart."

"Of course, of course," replied Minister Fudge, who had obviously lost control of the proceedings entirely.

Auror Eliot retrieved his clinking bottles of memories. A hand was laid quickly and gently on Harry's shoulder, and with a swish of robes, Feliss had vanished. Harry found a slight shiver running up his spine as he left, even though Dumbledore still sat near him on the dais.

[break]

"So what happened after that?" asked Homer O'Carolan later that night, sitting with Harry and Remus in the basement kitchen at Grimmauld Place, each with mugs of tea in front of him on the old wooden table.

"Dumbledore talked some more," said Harry, struggling to remember. He'd felt so panicky at the time that the details were difficult to recall. "He cited some rule or other that had to do with restrictions on the use of Underage Sorcery, and since there were actually three dementors..."

"I wonder how they did happen to be there," said Remus thoughtfully.

"That does seem a bit odd," agreed O'Carolan. "But go on, Harry. Did they give a verdict?"

"Oh Minister Fudge just seemed to want to get things over and done," continued Harry. "He called for a vote and there were enough votes in my favor that the charges were dismissed. I'm not sure exactly who voted against me..."

"They ought to have spoken their votes aloud," growled O'Carolan. "Under Magical Access law 504 a blind Wizard has a right to the same information in a court of law or disciplinary hearing."

"I didn't know that," said Harry wonderingly.

"What's this about the Carrows being at Hogwarts?" asked Remus.

"Madame Umbridge..." began Harry, but Remus interrupted him again.

"That woman!" he snorted. "Helped with my removal!

Harry knew that Remus still felt sore about getting sacked after the werewolf attacks, so he took a long, slow drink of tea rather than replying.

"You worked with the Carrows," stated Remus to O'Carolan.

"I did," agreed the elderly man. "Slippery as wet soap, those two. Death Eaters, the both of them."

"What classes will they take?" asked Remus.

"I don't know. They didn't say." Not wanting to upset Remus further, Harry avoided saying Undersecretary Umbridge's name again… but there was something about her that stuck in his craw. Just her association with the Carrows was enough to bring a bitter taste to the back of his throat, but this was something more. Realizing that he'd been quiet for a long time, Harry ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.

"But anyway, I was so glad I got off that I threw all of the galleons I had with me into the fountain at the Ministry," he added with a grin.

At that minute, Sirius came barging into the kitchen.

"So school begins in two weeks, eh Harry? It will be a busy one for you, I'm afraid, what with St. Mungo's and all," he said ruefully. He poured himself a mugful of tea and sat down beside Harry, facing outward, leaning his elbows back on the table.

"Ugh, don't remind me," answered Harry, thinking of the scheduled procedure on his eyes. The butterflies in his stomach rivaled those he'd had before the hearing.

"Don't you want to regain some sight?" asked Remus in surprise.

"Of course I do!" answered Harry. "It's just..." he trailed off, not daring to wonder aloud how much it would hurt. His stomach clenched. "And what if it didn't work?" he thought.

"It will be all right," O'Carolan comforted in his Irish brogue, unsoftened by his years teaching in Norway. Harry relaxed. If anyone understood, it was Professor O'Carolan.

Harry said goodnight and headed up the creaky stairs to bed, wondering if he'd sleep at all.