"Professor McGonagall," Harry looked up from his Transfiguration textbook to see Professor Dumbledore standing in the classroom doorway. "I was wondering if I could possibly borrow young Mr. Potter for a moment." Not waiting for Professor McGonagall to reply to the headmaster, Harry began packing up his school bag. "No need, Harry," Dumbledore assured with a smile. "The Minister of Magic just wants a quick word."

Harry paled. What could the Minister of Magic want with him? Considering how the rest of Harry's year seemed to be going, Harry was willing to bet that the Minister was not here to have tea. Nevertheless, Harry stood and followed the headmaster through the many corridors of Hogwarts, stopping when they reached a stone gargoyle.

"Harry, I want you to know that I am proud of the way you have handled yourself for the past few months," Dumbledore said softly, turning to face Harry. "You've made some wonderful friends; your performance in Quidditch is superb; you're doing well in nearly all of your classes—," here Harry's face flushed, remembering all of the help he'd been getting from Hermione, "—and you still have found time to research important wizards like Nicholas Flamel."

Shocked, Harry looked up into Dumbledore's knowing face. Harry began to stutter, "Professor, Hagrid didn't mean to—!"

"What is that, Mr. Potter?" the headmaster asked, his knowing face now one of confusion. "I seem to have forgotten what we were talking about… lemon drop?"

Harry was stunned when the stone gargoyle jumped up and out of the way of the now separating wall, while at the same time Dumbledore offered Harry a yellow Muggle candy like everything was normal. Harry declined the candy, unable to take his eyes off of the walls that had separated to reveal a moving staircase onto which he was ushered by the gentle hand of Albus Dumbledore.

Harry and Dumbledore rode the stairs up to a wooden door with a silver knocker attached to the outside, which Dumbledore opened to reveal a portly man with a lime green bowler hat. Almost as soon as Harry stepped into what had to be Professor Dumbledore's office, Harry found himself held captive by the portly man.

"How dare you!" the portly man demanded angrily, looking up at Harry's blank forehead. "How dare you mock me, and the rest of the wizarding world, with your presence here? Go back to where you came from you ungrateful little—!"

"Cornelius!" Dumbledore yanked the angry Minister off of Harry, his face furious. "I must ask you to not manhandle my students!"

"Dumbledore, you can't seriously believe that this imposter is the actual Harry Potter! Look at his forehead! Do you see a scar there? No? That is because this is not the real Harry Potter!" Cornelius Fudge, the British Minister of Magic, turned back to Harry, making sure to keep his hands to himself this time. "How dare you make a mockery of the boy who saved us all? What made you think you could succeed in this charade? What are you going to do when the real Harry Potter turns up? I'll bet that boy, young as he is, knows a hell of a lot more spells than you could ever hope to learn in your entire life!"

Harry had had enough of this man. Trying to keep his voice at a polite tone, Harry addressed the Minister. "Sir, I find that hard to believe considering I am Harry Potter. Ask me anything and I can prove it to you."

"And that is just what I am here to do!" Fudge declared, whipping the lime green bowler off of his head. "I am here to bring you before the Wizengamot to stand trial for treasonous and traitorous acts against the entire wizarding world!"

Dumbledore shook his head in an amused way, stepping in front of Harry to keep Fudge's attention. "That's just like you, Cornelius," the headmaster commented, a laugh hidden in his voice. "Always making a big deal out of the things that don't really matter."

"Don't really matter!" Fudge gasped, and then scoffed. "How can you suggest that this doesn't matter, Dumbledore?"

"This does not matter because I—as well as every other teacher here at Hogwarts—am fully convinced of this boy's identity as Harry James Potter. You should know of my skills with Legilimency better than to doubt me, Cornelius." Dumbledore looked reproachfully down his long, crooked nose at Fudge before moving to take a seat at his desk. "As to this business of brining Harry before the Wizengamot, I assure you that this is quite impossible."

"Nothing is impossible, Dumbledore!"

"Quite true," Dumbledore said approvingly, nodding his head gently. "What I should have said is that the situation is quite improbable. You see, Harry—whether or not that is his true identity—is currently enrolled at Hogwarts. To take him to the Wizengamot now would interrupt his lessons."

"It has been done before!" Fudge sputtered angrily, his face turning a shade of purple that reminded Harry vividly of his Uncle Vernon.

"Yes, it has been done before. However, you are also forgetting that the entire Wizengamot has to be assembled for any hearings to take place."

"What of it, Dumbledore?"

"Am I not the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses.

Fudge looked absolutely furious. "As I am sure you are aware, Dumbledore, the Minister of Magic—namely, me—has the ability to force members of the Wizengamot to convene?"

Dumbledore gave a soft smile that barely showed through his beard. "And as I am sure you are aware of, Cornelius, members of the Wizengamot do not have to convene if one or more of said members are currently suffering from health problems."

"You look perfectly healthy to me."

"My ailment is not one of a physical nature, Cornelius; it's more of a torture of soul."

"I will be needing evidence of this 'torture of soul'."

"Ah," sighed Dumbledore, leaning back in his chair. "That is between me and my Pensieve, Cornelius. You are welcome to it, of course—if you are quite certain that you could sort through all of the memories I have collected within it in the past one hundred and fifty years." Dumbledore smiled cordially at Fudge's negative response to such a suggestion.

"'Tortures of soul' do not count as health problems, Dumbledore!" Cornelius insisted when he had collected his thoughts.

Dumbledore simply looked at the whining adult before him and responded as he would to a student: "Of course they do, Cornelius. You see, there are four different types of health: the most-often-referred-to being physical; mental; emotional; social." As Dumbledore said each word, Harry watched Fudge's reaction become increasingly angry.

"Fine then!" the Minister shouted. "When can the boy come to trial?"

Dumbledore looked thoughtfully at Harry, his distant gaze revealing to the student that his mind was reeling through some plan he had concocted. "I think my emotional duress should end sometime during the Christmas holidays," the headmaster said in a thoughtful tone. "I will bring Harry before the Wizengamot at that time."

Harry tried not to let his surprise and disappointment show on his face; he had thought Dumbledore was going to get him out of this! He shouldn't be going to trial just because of a stupid mistake he'd made trying to fit in at school! That wasn't fair! Surely Dumbledore knew this. But if so, then why was he consenting to bring Harry before the Wizengamot—something Ron had explained was something along the lines of a wizarding Supreme Court? What was Dumbledore thinking?

A bang jerked Harry out of his thoughts; Fudge had left Dumbledore's office, apparently slamming the door behind him.

"I think you had better be getting back to class, Harry." Harry looked back at Professor Dumbledore, wanting to ask him all of the confusing questions that were flying through his head. The exhausted look on Dumbledore's face, however, changed Harry's mind. Maybe his emotional health issues were more real than Dumbledore had let on? But that didn't seem possible, not for Dumbledore. Nevertheless, Harry nodded and left the office.

When Harry explained what had happened to Ron and Hermione at lunch, all three students had a good time loudly expressing their indignation at the situation. Even Malfoy, hearing bits of what was going on at the Gryffindor table, came over to voice his opinion.

"Well, you can't really blame him, can you?" Malfoy drawled, standing behind and between Harry and Ron. "He's only looking out for what he thinks is the good of the wizarding world."

"But did he have to shake me like that?" Harry countered.

Hermione agreed with Harry. "I don't think Fudge was looking out for the wizarding world; I think he was looking out for himself. From what Harry tells us, it seems to me like Cornelius Fudge is an arrogant prat who only wants to look good in front of the people who will be choosing whether to re-elect him next term."

"And he's not a nice man!" Ron added, causing everyone to look sadly in his direction until he explained. "Dad works at the Ministry, remember? Well, every other time I've met Fudge, he's always been 'too busy' to talk to Dad. And yet he always has time to talk to people like—," Ron hesitated, looking cautiously up at Malfoy. "People with the money to pay for the time to talk."

Malfoy's face darkened. "Like my father, you mean?" he said angrily. "I know what you were going to say: 'people like Lucius Malfoy'. Isn't that right, Weasley?"

"Yes?" The entire group turned to look at the sources of the voices that had simultaneously responded to Malfoy's accusation: Fred and George.

"This has got nothing to do with you!" Malfoy said quickly, looking as if he regretted leaving Crabbe and Goyle back at the Slytherin table.

"Oh, I think it does," Fred said, coming over to sling an arm over a disgusted Malfoy's shoulders. "You were accusing my little brother of doing something, weren't you, Malfoy m'boy?"

Malfoy didn't respond. Instead, he picked up Fred's arm between two of his fingers and dropped it, looking as if he had just removed a spider contaminated with the Black Plague.

"And when you accuse one Weasley of something," George continued for Fred, "you accuse all of us."

"Except for when it comes to us two," Fred took up the thread again, this time with a smile. "We're special."

"Most certainly," Malfoy grumbled.

"What's that?" George asked, holding a hand up to his ear to act as if he was deaf.

Malfoy shook his head in a disgusted manner and retreated back to the Slytherin table to eat, leaving the Gryffindors alone for now. Harry filled Fred and George in on what had taken place in Dumbledore's office. When he finished, Fred and George whistled simultaneously.

"A trial," they said together, amazed.

"For your sake, Harry," Fred said, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder, "I hope the news doesn't get out."

"It certainly won't make you much more popular than you are now," George added.

A thick parcel sent Hermione's lunch flying into her face—a barn owl had dropped a special edition of the Daily Prophet onto her afternoon meal. While Hermione picked bits of ham and cheese out of her hair, Harry and Ron opened the newspaper and read the article on the front page:

Harry Potter Imposter on Trial
In response to the alarming number of parental complaints to the attendance of
Harry Potter look-alike Jonathan Falso at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,
Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge has demanded that the child be put on trial before the
entire Wizengamot. Apparently having met with the boy and the school headmaster,
Albus Dumbledore, earlier this morning, Fudge says that he is feeling optimistic about
the upcoming trial, which won't be held until late December.
"We've got a firm case built up against this Jonathan Falso," says Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge. "I'm confident that we can convict young Mr. Falso and send
him to Azkaban for a while, teach him a lesson he wasn't taught at home and can't be
taught at any school."
Some, like Albus Dumbledore himself, are in outrage as the possibility of sending
a child to Azkaban for an offense they claim is one of minimal, if not none, importance
whatsoever. "This is the true Harry Potter," Dumbledore says. "I have spoken with the
boy myself, and am fully convinced that this is Harry Potter, and that Cornelius is
making a humongous mistake. Even if the Wizengamot does find Harry guilty of these
ridiculous charges, it is preposterous that the Minister of Magic could ever consider
sending a child to Azkaban."
Another wizard protesting the trial is one Arthur Weasley of the Misuse of Muggle
Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic. "My son Ronald has become best friends with
Harry Potter," Mr. Weasley claims. "I know my Ron would have a hard time believing
anyone was Harry Potter if they didn't have the signature lightning-bolt scar, so I know
that this boy is not an imposter. I trust my son, and I trust his friend Harry Potter as
well."
While the Minister refused to comment on the many protesters, he did say that
he believed that the competent witches and wizards that make up the Wizengamot would
reach a fair and just decision.

-Rita Skeeter,
Reporter for the Daily Prophet

Harry shredded the newspaper, causing Hermione to protest that she had wanted to read the article as well.

"Trust me," Harry assured her, angrily stabbing at his sandwich. "It would only make you upset, and you wouldn't want to risk a foul mood in Charms today, would you?"

Hermione's face suddenly brightened when she remembered, "Oh yes, that's right! We're doing Giggling Charms today!"

While talk between Ron and Hermione returned to normal, Harry looked up at the enchanted ceiling. Right now the ceiling showed the first snowflakes of the season drifting down, disappearing where the spell ended at the bottom of the candle chandeliers in the Great Hall. November would be turning into December very shortly, and December brought Christmas along with it. While Harry would normally be ecstatic at the thought of the Christmas holidays, now he dreaded the reprieve on schoolwork; this year the holidays would bring with it a trial in which Harry's only evidence would be his testimony—and what good would that be when no one believed him in the first place?