Harry's favorite day came just a week after he arrived. August the seventh,
Fudge's hearing. The hearing was to take place at four o'clock in the
stadium. This time, though, they did not take a Portkey, but used Floo
powder to go to "The Quidditch stadium!"
Harry fell out of a fireplace roughly, slightly bruising his knee. Ron and Hermione fell out next to him. As Harry stood up he took a look around. They were in a gold room, probably in the stadium itself, which was literally covered in fireplaces. Wizards and witches were emerging from them all around him with soft whooshes as they popped out of the fireplaces and took their places in a long line.
As Harry, Ron, and Hermione took their places in it, Hermione asked, "Where are Fred and George and the rest apparating to?"
Harry pointed to a sign that said Apparation point this way with an arrow pointing to a different door.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione made there way down the line into the stadium itself. They met Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, Bill, and Charlie at the ticket booth.
"Okay," said Mr. Weasley, "we have seats near the, er," he consulted the tickets, for a second, "near the middle. Let's get going then, all right? Oh, and hold onto your tickets, I heard that they'll be checking throughout the trial for those kind of things."
He handed out the tickets. Harry looked at his. It said 'Row: 47B Seat: 591'.
Half an hour later saw them all sitting comfortably on leather backed seats in the stadium chatting unconcernedly. Harry looked out to the stadium. It did not at all look like a Quidditch stadium. For one thing, the goal posts had been taken down, and the ground was covered in polished wood, and last of all, there were many small tables and desks set in rings throughout the pitch.
Suddenly a loud voice boomed out, "Silence in the audience! The hearing of Cornelius Oswald Fudge and office shall commence."
A hush filled the stadium and Harry noticed that people were filing into lines on the ground. Harry recognized a few of the people who were moving slowly onto chained chairs: Umbridge, the wizard with the black mustache from Harry's own hearing, and Fudge himself. There were about five or six others whom Harry did not recognize.
The voice boomed out again. "The charges for the accused are as follows. One, that they ignored rumors of the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, leading to the threat of torture and death due to lack of knowledge of the Wizarding community. Two, that they paid bribes to all major newspapers and magazines to print lies and . . ."
The list trailed on and on. Harry noticed that Fudge looked strained and tense, a thing that Harry was very happy about. Umbridge was just staring at the sky with her pale eyes and her flabby face sagging horribly. She started as the voice said, ". . . Dolores Jane Umbridge, accused of attempting to use the Cruciatus Curse on Harry Potter, and sending dementors illegally to his residence in Surrey. This second crime is made worse by the facts that Potter had a hearing on the issue and Umbridge indirectly denied having sent them. Furthermore, she placed many Decrees at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and many of them were signed by a master forger, who imitated Minister Cornelius Fudge's signature.
"Jack Ledgeman, the Secretary of the Interior to Cornelius Fudge, accused of letting off known Death Eaters in Azkaban after the return of He-Who- Must-Not-Be-Named. Most of the Death Eaters have already been apprehended and turned in again, though two are loose, and one has been killed by a team of Aurors.
"Sir Patrick . . ."
Harry sank in a stupor again, only coming to when the voice said, ". . . the verdicts for the accused shall be given after the next trial, which shall be held next Thursday afternoon at four thirty right here. Thank you for participating in this hearing."
The crowd rang with applause and began exiting the stadium.
At dinner that night, everyone was talking about different things. Hermione was once again talking to Lupin about S.P.E.W. but Lupin didn't seem to be listening at all, though Hermione didn't notice.
". . . really, you should understand it all perfectly, I mean, it's the same with werewolves and other types of creatures . . ."
"Hmmm, maybe," said Lupin absently.
Ron was talking to Fred and George, who had come over for dinner, about how horrible it was being a prefect, while Hermione threw furious glances at him when she wasn't talking.
Mr. Weasley was talking to Moody and Mrs. Weasley about the hearing, ". . . Fudge wasn't looking too good this morning; it looks like we've finally got to him — "
"Shhh," whispered Mrs. Weasley, looking around furtively. Mr. Weasley continued but his voice was so low that Harry only caught a few words, ". . . a bottle, yes . . ." and Mad-Eye's growl, ". . . pressure . . . Lucius Malfoy . . ."
Wishing that he had Extendable Ears, Harry looked back at his plate. He didn't know what to do . . . he wished that Sirius could have been here, enjoying a meal and a conversation with Harry. . . .
He was about to get some more food when the kitchen door opened and a familiar figure bespectacled with horn-rimmed glasses walked into the room. Everybody froze.
Percy edged into the room and closed the door behind him. He cleared his throat nervously. Ron and Hermione shot him disgusted looks, while Fred, George, and Ginny stopped talking and determinedly stared in the opposite direction. Harry stared had him, but Percy wouldn't meet his gaze. Mrs. Weasley burst into tears.
Percy cleared his throat again.
"What do you want, you idiot?" said Fred, turning around, "speak up or get out! We don't need or want you here!" He looked pointedly at Harry.
"Okay . . ." said Percy, clearly taken aback, "I just, er, want you to know that I'm very sorry about what I said the past year and I hope you forgive me. . . ."
"WHAT!" shouted Harry, "why on earth should we do that? What about that letter you wrote to Ron about me! Why should I just forget that?"
"What letter?" asked Mrs. Weasley quickly.
"Percy sent me a stupid letter," snarled Ron, "that talked about how stupid you were and how Harry was insane and I should tell tales to that toad, Umbridge. He wanted me to join stupid Fudge and the Ministry and forget about my family and friends, like him!"
Mrs. Weasley was so shocked she stopped crying. "You sent a letter to my Ron telling him to quit with us, you-you-no, how could you?"
Percy spoke again, "I already said, I'm sorry . . . I didn't realize You- Know-Who was back . . . I'm sorry,"
Fred looked up at him, with something close to hatred in his eyes. "Well, we don't forgive you, so clear out — "
"Of course we do!" said Mrs. Weasley. She looked around the table with sharp eyes as if to say, or else.
That night Harry had a dream of Percy entering the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Harry walked to the Head Table where Mrs. Weasley was sitting. He decided to come closer and suddenly the room became smaller and darker. Harry looked back at Mrs. Weasley, who was talking to herself in a small chair . . . but . . . no, that wasn't Mrs. Weasley at all, it was an old man talking to himself. Harry looked closer and realized that the man was holding something in his hands. Harry moved over to see what it was, but it was going far away, he was flying back, farther and farther back . . . Harry woke up.
* * *
Harry fell out of a fireplace roughly, slightly bruising his knee. Ron and Hermione fell out next to him. As Harry stood up he took a look around. They were in a gold room, probably in the stadium itself, which was literally covered in fireplaces. Wizards and witches were emerging from them all around him with soft whooshes as they popped out of the fireplaces and took their places in a long line.
As Harry, Ron, and Hermione took their places in it, Hermione asked, "Where are Fred and George and the rest apparating to?"
Harry pointed to a sign that said Apparation point this way with an arrow pointing to a different door.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione made there way down the line into the stadium itself. They met Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, Bill, and Charlie at the ticket booth.
"Okay," said Mr. Weasley, "we have seats near the, er," he consulted the tickets, for a second, "near the middle. Let's get going then, all right? Oh, and hold onto your tickets, I heard that they'll be checking throughout the trial for those kind of things."
He handed out the tickets. Harry looked at his. It said 'Row: 47B Seat: 591'.
Half an hour later saw them all sitting comfortably on leather backed seats in the stadium chatting unconcernedly. Harry looked out to the stadium. It did not at all look like a Quidditch stadium. For one thing, the goal posts had been taken down, and the ground was covered in polished wood, and last of all, there were many small tables and desks set in rings throughout the pitch.
Suddenly a loud voice boomed out, "Silence in the audience! The hearing of Cornelius Oswald Fudge and office shall commence."
A hush filled the stadium and Harry noticed that people were filing into lines on the ground. Harry recognized a few of the people who were moving slowly onto chained chairs: Umbridge, the wizard with the black mustache from Harry's own hearing, and Fudge himself. There were about five or six others whom Harry did not recognize.
The voice boomed out again. "The charges for the accused are as follows. One, that they ignored rumors of the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, leading to the threat of torture and death due to lack of knowledge of the Wizarding community. Two, that they paid bribes to all major newspapers and magazines to print lies and . . ."
The list trailed on and on. Harry noticed that Fudge looked strained and tense, a thing that Harry was very happy about. Umbridge was just staring at the sky with her pale eyes and her flabby face sagging horribly. She started as the voice said, ". . . Dolores Jane Umbridge, accused of attempting to use the Cruciatus Curse on Harry Potter, and sending dementors illegally to his residence in Surrey. This second crime is made worse by the facts that Potter had a hearing on the issue and Umbridge indirectly denied having sent them. Furthermore, she placed many Decrees at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and many of them were signed by a master forger, who imitated Minister Cornelius Fudge's signature.
"Jack Ledgeman, the Secretary of the Interior to Cornelius Fudge, accused of letting off known Death Eaters in Azkaban after the return of He-Who- Must-Not-Be-Named. Most of the Death Eaters have already been apprehended and turned in again, though two are loose, and one has been killed by a team of Aurors.
"Sir Patrick . . ."
Harry sank in a stupor again, only coming to when the voice said, ". . . the verdicts for the accused shall be given after the next trial, which shall be held next Thursday afternoon at four thirty right here. Thank you for participating in this hearing."
The crowd rang with applause and began exiting the stadium.
At dinner that night, everyone was talking about different things. Hermione was once again talking to Lupin about S.P.E.W. but Lupin didn't seem to be listening at all, though Hermione didn't notice.
". . . really, you should understand it all perfectly, I mean, it's the same with werewolves and other types of creatures . . ."
"Hmmm, maybe," said Lupin absently.
Ron was talking to Fred and George, who had come over for dinner, about how horrible it was being a prefect, while Hermione threw furious glances at him when she wasn't talking.
Mr. Weasley was talking to Moody and Mrs. Weasley about the hearing, ". . . Fudge wasn't looking too good this morning; it looks like we've finally got to him — "
"Shhh," whispered Mrs. Weasley, looking around furtively. Mr. Weasley continued but his voice was so low that Harry only caught a few words, ". . . a bottle, yes . . ." and Mad-Eye's growl, ". . . pressure . . . Lucius Malfoy . . ."
Wishing that he had Extendable Ears, Harry looked back at his plate. He didn't know what to do . . . he wished that Sirius could have been here, enjoying a meal and a conversation with Harry. . . .
He was about to get some more food when the kitchen door opened and a familiar figure bespectacled with horn-rimmed glasses walked into the room. Everybody froze.
Percy edged into the room and closed the door behind him. He cleared his throat nervously. Ron and Hermione shot him disgusted looks, while Fred, George, and Ginny stopped talking and determinedly stared in the opposite direction. Harry stared had him, but Percy wouldn't meet his gaze. Mrs. Weasley burst into tears.
Percy cleared his throat again.
"What do you want, you idiot?" said Fred, turning around, "speak up or get out! We don't need or want you here!" He looked pointedly at Harry.
"Okay . . ." said Percy, clearly taken aback, "I just, er, want you to know that I'm very sorry about what I said the past year and I hope you forgive me. . . ."
"WHAT!" shouted Harry, "why on earth should we do that? What about that letter you wrote to Ron about me! Why should I just forget that?"
"What letter?" asked Mrs. Weasley quickly.
"Percy sent me a stupid letter," snarled Ron, "that talked about how stupid you were and how Harry was insane and I should tell tales to that toad, Umbridge. He wanted me to join stupid Fudge and the Ministry and forget about my family and friends, like him!"
Mrs. Weasley was so shocked she stopped crying. "You sent a letter to my Ron telling him to quit with us, you-you-no, how could you?"
Percy spoke again, "I already said, I'm sorry . . . I didn't realize You- Know-Who was back . . . I'm sorry,"
Fred looked up at him, with something close to hatred in his eyes. "Well, we don't forgive you, so clear out — "
"Of course we do!" said Mrs. Weasley. She looked around the table with sharp eyes as if to say, or else.
That night Harry had a dream of Percy entering the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Harry walked to the Head Table where Mrs. Weasley was sitting. He decided to come closer and suddenly the room became smaller and darker. Harry looked back at Mrs. Weasley, who was talking to herself in a small chair . . . but . . . no, that wasn't Mrs. Weasley at all, it was an old man talking to himself. Harry looked closer and realized that the man was holding something in his hands. Harry moved over to see what it was, but it was going far away, he was flying back, farther and farther back . . . Harry woke up.
* * *