Chapter 11:

Legal offensive

Griphook took his seat on the witness stand directly across from the defendant on his stand.

Ignoring the muted snickers of those gathered in the court as he struggled to do so was all par for the course of dealing with moronic wizards. Better to be short and struggle with tall things, than be tall and struggle with short things. Climbing is better for your health that crouching and leaning over until you have incurable sciatica, after all. His friend Kingsley, tall African man that he was, complained endlessly about just those things. And small food portions. He complained about his food shrinking with age a lot.

"Mister Griphook." Greeted Potter's solicitor, he couldn't bebothered to remember the name.

"I believe you would be advised to refer to me by my full legal name, for the benefit of the court." Griphook instructed, doing his best to hide his smile.

"Ah yes, that would be..." The solicitor paused to browse his notes before giving it the good old law school try. "Ma.. mahairsmeerkunock?"

Griphook shook his head piteously at the poor man and intended to correct him when he noticed the boy at his seat motioning for his solicitor to come over. Griphook pointed to the boy and the dumpy bald man took notice.

He walked over and showed Potter the name.

"Mare-Shmeer-Knock." He enunciated, adding the proper phlegm before the R and H sounds, and even added U sound between the two Os in 'Knook'. It was almost flawless pronunciation and could be mistaken for an accent.

"That was outstanding. Is Hogwarts offering gobbledygook as an elective these days?" Griphook complimented.

"Hm?" said harry. "Oh! No! I just imagine Sean Connery doing an impression of Thorin mispronouncing German while gargling scotch and I get it right every time. Every time!"

That sounded a lot like laughter coming from the gathered Old Ones and reporters, but Griphook was too distracted by the deep red tunnel vision that just overtook his vision as he tried to make Potter's head explode. Never, in his two hundred and fifty years of life, had he been so thoroughly insulted nor humiliated as a goblinfolk by a filthy human! And for it to not only be in such a public setting, but to be recorded and broadcast live for the whole world to see.

Fuck. This. Kid.

The solicitor was talking to him again. Some small part of his mind registered that, but he couldn't make out the words with the thunderous sound of his heartbeat in his ears. A few deep breaths later and he returned to reality enough to address the wizard.

"Sorry, Iwas focusing on controlling my laughter. That was rather humorous. I am composed enough to continue. What was your question again?" He smiled as politely as he could without revealing his teeth.

Humans didn't like goblin teeth. Which always seemed hypocritical of British humans.

"Uh, yes, what is your relationship to the defendant, Harry Potter?" The solicitor asked.

"He is one of many people whom I was assigned as Carer of Trusts." Griphook explained. "I managed many trust vaults for children orphaned in the last war, and some left in wills specifically for Muggleborns."

"I see." Said the solicitor. "And what duties does that title entail?"

"It mostly just entailed me personally guiding the beneficiaries of said vaults during their visits to Gringotts." Griphook explained. "In addition to taking them to said vault, I am to answer any and all questions they have about banking with us and am in charge of maintaining security over said vaults and meeting out justice in the event that security is breached."

The solicitor nodded.

"I notice you speak in past tense. Are you no longer Carer of Trusts?" The solicitor asked.

"I am not."

"I hope you haven't been let go?"

"Promoted, actually." Explained Griphook. "I am now the account manager for all Potter family assets at Gringotts. Hence why I was sent here to speak on his legal status with the bank."

"I see. Congratulations. And what ca you tell us about his legal standing with your bank?" He asked.

"The magic of his bloodline and of the bank both recognized him as an emancipated adult as of November 24th, 1994." Griphook answered.

He took another calm breath as the murmuring of the crowd returned and the solicitor shared a surprise look with young Harry.

"Mister Potter, were you aware of this development?" He asked the defendant.

"No sir. I was not. I thought I was paying for your services from my trust, but it sounds like I have a bank run to make after this trial is over." Potter answered.

"We attempted to get in contact with you by post after the magic took effect, but our letters were returned by the system." Griphook explained. "Likely a personal safety concern, if a celebrity has been sent dangerous materials or death threats by post the office will send back all mail for a time."

Understanding crossed the boy's face then.

"Yeah, that's around the time I started getting a bunch of hate mail from people upset about me killing the mama dragon." Potter explained. "Wait! Did I not get all of the hate mail?! That means there's still people I didn't respond to. Oh nooo. They must think I'm an inconsiderate arse, instead of an intentional one. I need to fix that. Yet another thing to add to my todo list."

Griphook actually did snort t that. His hatred for the boy ebbed just slightly with the knowledge that he wasn't just a shitbag to goblins, but everyone and anything.

"You just don't give a fuck, do you mister Potter?" Griphook couldn't stop himself from asking.

Teh uproar at his use of a four letter word barely drowned out Potter's uproarious laughter. Yeah, Griphook suspected he had him pinned now. Getting angry at such an equal opportunity misanthrope, an obvious scion of the trickster god, would be pointless. To seek harm on him? Suicidal. He decided then and there to sit back and enjoy the show Potter was planning to put on for the entire world in the coming months or years.

Worst case scenario? War. Best case scenario? Also war. It was a win-win.

"And do either of you know why the magic would recognize him as an adult on that day, instead of on the choosing of champions on Halloween?" The solicitor asked.

Griphook had to lean back and think on that one.

"I would wager a guess and say Mister Potter was not actually obliged and contractually bound from merely his name coming out of the goblet, on account of he didn't submit his name himself." Griphook guessed. "But by completing the first task he took responsibility and gave his actual consent to compete. In other words, you could have just said no to the tournament before then."

The headbutt Potter gave his desk made him jump, but nobody commented on the obvious stress this boy was in.

"I agree." Harry eventually moaned. "That or because my girlfriend decided to make me into a man that night.."

The uproarious chatter from the journalist box droned out whatever he said next. As did the gavel and commanding voice of Albus Dumbledore. Both were followed closely by Potter's genuine laughter at the reaction to his "revelation". Griphook suspected he was speaking with multiple meaning. Perhaps this young lady introduced him to alcohol, or was from some culture or other that had a rite of passage for adulthood? Or perhaps she even eloped with him in a nondescript church in the Scottish countryside?

Either way. Teenaged girls reading Witch Weakly would be sorely depressed to discover Harry Potter wasn't on the market, nor pure.

"Believe it or not, if you're insinuating what I think you are, that could influence the family magic recognizing you as an adult." Griphook confirmed. "But not as a sole factor."

Harry was on the stand alone now, the seat opposite him for cross examination left empty.

Malcolm mcgonagall approached to begin his line of questioning.

"The crux of this case is that Mister Potter has a history of flaunting both the restrictions on underage magic and the statute of secrecy." Malcolm began. "And that this is his third offense."

He withdrew a stack of documents from inside his coat.

"Mafalda Hopkirk from the Improper Use of Magic Office at the Ministry of Magic for Britain has provided two incident reports on your use of underage magic." He continued. "Would you care to comment on them?"

"Happily," said Harry giddily.

Malcom cleared his throat.

"On Friday, July thirtty first, 1992, did you perform a levitation charm in your Muggle relative's home?" He asked.

"No sir, I did not." Harry answered honestly. "And I'm rather confused as to how that's on my record."

Malcolm looked from him to the report in his hands.

"It says here a levitation charm was detected at your listed residence and you were sent your first warning letter?" Malcolm informed him.

"Both of which are true claims, but you asked if I cast said spell. Which I did not." Harry explained.

"I see... and who did? There are no other witches or wizards registered as living near you."

"It was a house elf." Harry said simply.

"A house elf?"

"A house elf."

"And why would a house elf cast a levitation charm at your place of residence?"

"Because his master was plotting to kill me through a convoluted plan to open the chamber of secrets and this house elf got it into his head to save my life." Harry explained. "He went about this by first stealing my mail to make me think my friends didn't care about me anymore. He followed this up by assaulting my uncle's business partner by levitating a cake and crashing it on his said man's head. He later sealed the entrance to the Hogwarts train cutting me and my friend off from his parents, so we missed the train..."

"Um..." Slughorn interrupted while raising a hand.

"That is technically kidnapping by British magical law." Malcolm beat the pudgy man to his obvious point.

"In that case he kidnapped me and my best friend, which lead to the next incident I'm guessing you're going to cite where said friend flew an illegally enchanted vehicle all the way to Hogwarts with me as a passenger." Harry went on. "He later enchanted a bludger to try and kill me on the Quidditch pitch, though in his own words he "only meant to maim or seriously injure" enough so that that I would have to be medically evacuated from the school."

The entire court room was silent save for the autonomous quills and typewriters of the media workers.

"That was an odd year." Harry confessed. "But anyways the house elf in question currently works at Hogwarts. He can be called in to testify to all of this. We're friends now. He's nuts; I love him."

Malcolm shook his head slowly.

"That shouldn't be necessary for this case, but I'm sure the Improper Use of Magic Office will want to follow up on that as soon as this trial is concluded, I um..." Malcolm paused to flip through the documents in his hands.

"Ah! Friday, August sixth, 1993 did you... BLOW UP YOUR AUNT?!"

Harry couldn't help it. He laughed.

"Like a BALLOON!" He explained to the courtroom pleadingly between his laughing fits. "I inflated her like a balloon, and she flew away, yes. No viscera decorating the ceiling or walls, thank you very much."

Malcolm, and the courtroom at large, calmed down at that.

"Okay... and why did you choose to use that... spell I've never heard of on her?"

"Oh, I didn't." Harry explained. "It was accidental magic."

Malcolm responded that by shaking his head and blinking like he couldn't believe what Harry just said. Most of the remainder of the room had similar reactions of surprise, although there was also mixed in a few excited expressions and one impressed whistle.

"For the benefit of my client, who was raised by Muggles and is still unaware of much of wizarding society." Slughorn interrupted. "It is nearly unheard of for a child to experience magical outbursts pat the age of nine."

"Really? I was still having them regularly at eleven." Harry explained to more disbelief and snorts of amusement from the crowd. "Vanished the plate glass of a snake enclosure because the boa inside told me it's sad life story and I felt terrible for it. That was before I knew I was a wizard though, so I'm not surprised it isn't on my record."

"I see. onto the incident with your aunt. Why were you not charged for it?" Malcolm asked.

"There was extenuating circumstances leading up to and following the incident." Harry explained.

"I see. Please describe the incident, in your own words." Malcolm asked.

"Okay. Where to start... I had just finished assuring her that the faculty of St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys beat me regularly."

"I'm sorry, saint... what now?"

"St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys, the place my extended family tells all of their neighbors and friends I go to as a cover for my Hogwarts schooling." Harry explained. "It makes for a great cover considering they spent the first ten years of my life warning everybody they could that I was an incurable kleptomaniac who tortures animals, among other psychological red flags they made of to keep people from finding out about my 'freakishness'."

Even the reporters and their automatic quills and typewriters went silent as they could only stare at Harry.

"But anyways, after that the conversation turned to my parents. My uncle politely explained in detail my father's career as an unemployed alcohol before he died, and my aunt went on a spiel about bad blood." Harry went on. "That they shouldn't blame themselves for how bad I turned out, and that in her experience breeding dogs it's usually something wrong with the mother that causes defects in the pups. Or as she put it 'if there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup'."

"So yeah, most everyone investigating decided that my emotional outburst to being told that the reason every person I know outside of the wizarding world clutches their belongings or hide their children when they walk by me like I'm some kind of predator wasn't their fault, but that the woman who bore me, defeated Voldemort and gave her life for mine was of bad stock." Harry finished.

Malcolm tore his copy of the report in his hands in half and threw it in the bin beside him.

"Well that and the Ministry was scrambling to find me after I ran away following this incident out of fear that I might run into a recently escaped Sirius Black." Harry went on. "Which I did, but he was so busy barking with laughter at what he'd just witnessed me do that he wasn't very intelligible, and I didn't realize it was him at the time, so we went our separate ways."

Malcolm returned to his seat and buried his head into his hands.

Harry was starting to feel bad for him. But sadly, there was no pane of glass in sight to vanish to make him feel better. He'd owe him a pay bonus as an apology.

"The kid is DESTINED to become more powerful than Dumbledore and he has no idea!" Madam Flamel complained as they filed into the side chambers to deliberate.

It was true. The frequency of accidental underage magic was directly correlated to magical power. It stops once a child reaching magical maturity. That Mister Potter was still having them at thirteen meant he had the potential, at least in raw magical power, to surpass Dumbledore by a lot. Talent and intelligence? That seemed doubtful.

This also required he live long enough, which he seemed hellbent on not doing.

"Indeed." Said Rasputin. "As an aside, we have no choice but to dismiss the charges. Even Gringotts's records declare him emancipated long before the event he is here for. And by all laws he acted in accordance with how to deal with suspicious Muggles as an adult."

He got nothing but assent for that one, if also a few grumbles from those who didn't like the boy. Which he couldn't relate to, the kid was a riot! Best friends with a deranged house elf? Flying stolen cars? Hyucking it up with escaped massed murderers overturning a woman into a hot air balloon? If he'd known the British Isles were capable of providing this much excitement, he would have expatriated there decades ago!

"Still. Something must be done." Johnson said. "He is dangerous and on the warpath with us. When we declare him innocent, he will continue to push boundaries, especially legally and financially with his newfound inheritance. Ten galleons say he doesn't even know how much is in the Potter vaults?"

"Not taking that bet, but you're right." Bao Li agreed. "He will escalate in violence as well, for he is no stranger to it being escalated against him and he feels he has no choice. But what would you all propose we do that wouldn't be political suicide and criminal to boot?"

Madame Flamel stepped in.

"You're going about this the wrong way." the alchemists wife said. "It seeems to me that the problem isn't his reaction to the situation he's found himself in, but that he is in these situations at all."

Bao considered her.

"Are you proposing we... help him?" She asked.

"It does seem to me that the boy has had a severe lack of adults in his life capable of giving a single fuck about him." Rasputin pointed out, and with all honesty continued. "How pathetic is it that I, an undead homonculus psychopath, and the delightful company I keep are the first to even consider his best interest? To say nothign of the extents he went to in order to get our attention."

They all laughed at his joke for a change. At first nervously, then sadly.

There was silence for a moment.

"What do you propose, madame Flamel?" Johnson asked.

"We do what the legal system in Britain has failed to do." She said. "And fill in the cracks of the law that this child slipped through. And if a tenth of what he said out there is to be believed, then we have plenty of legal avenues to go about it."

"But is there enough lime and water for the task?" Rasputin joked.

That time the laughter seemed more genuine.

Lucius sat, relaxed, in front of the fireplace with his wife. In his arms. Wearing that white, silk, transparent in all the right places nightgown.

It was one of those nights. A night after a truly monstrous business acquisition on his part, which always seemed to get his pale princess into the mood. Seeing him dominate, in his domain of politics and business, made him look even greater a man to her, and she treated him like more of a man. Especially when these things coincided with those unpredictable swings in labido thatm other nature bequeathed the farer sex.

He may or may not have made these business plans line up with his mental calendar of her cycles. they had been trying for a daughter for some time now, and based on the way she was nibling behind his ear - oh what that did to him - tonight may be a success.

The floo rang. The emergency floo that only his fellow Inner Circle members and relatives could use.

"That better be a fully resurrected Voldemort in person here to express his displeasure or else somebody is going to die." Lucius said without preamble.

Narcissa delicately stood up from his lap and folded her hands before her. Lucius waited patiently for her to adjust her clothing before standing up and leaving to the floo room. His mood soured further at the sign of his lawyer, the criminal one not the contract or copyright one.

"Lucius." David greeted.

"David. What good news do you bring to me?" Lucius asked.

David remained more stonefaced and answered by simply handing him and envelope. He then spoke through ground teeth,

"The International Confederacy of Wizards is bringing up charges against you for crimes against Harry Potter." David said.

Lucius scoffed.

"That's preposterous!" Lucius sneered, ripping open the letter. "I've seldom interacted with him, what could he possibly..."

He read the charges and had his

Thirteen accounts of mail tampering, one count of magically assaulting a Muggle, one count of breaking the statute of secrecy, one count of framing somebody for breaking the statute of secrecy and underage magic. Then there were the two counts of kidnappings of a minor by way of unlawfully impeding and separation of them from their guardians, one count of attempt to interfere with an officially sanctioned quidditch match and finally, one count of attempted murder and maiming with a bludger... What?!

"I confess I am... confused." Lucius told David. "Usually when I declare myself innocent of accusations, I at least know why I am being accused, but this? I genuinely have no knowledge of any of these events... except that rogue bludger during the Quidditch game, I witnessed that but had nothing to do with it."

David shook his head.

"So, your defense is that you not only didn't order your house elf to commit these crimes against Harry Potter, but also had no knowledge of them being committed?" David asked skeptically.

A few moments of silence.

"DOBBY!"

Vernon Dursley marched up to the podium at the head of the table.

He was practically vibrating out of his own suit with excitement all day at the prospect of presenting the latest business deal to the board. It was days like these where he could take the most pride in being director.

"Good morning Grunnings!" Vernon started his speech. "For years now we have manufactured drills exclusively for industrial purposes in mining and manufacturing, but today we enter the realm of medicine thanks to the Wilkins dental association."

He motioned towards Monika Wilkins herself and her husband, Wendell Granger, who made this possible. They both waved politely.

"Dental drills are a world apart from the indexable drills we specialize in, but our failed project to expand into pedicure machinery last year left us with an entirely unused facility perfectly suited for manufacturing dental drills and letters are already being sent out to the employees we had to let go at the time." Vernon went on. "Which just goes to show, one door closing can lead to ...better ... ones..."

He stopped completely after the third person came into the room. The first one was a middle-aged woman who could almost be mistaken for his secretary. The second was a genuinely ancient man with clothes that didn't quite suit him. The third person was a police officer.

"May we help you?" Vernon asked politely.

He noted how most of the board members shrunk in on themselves at the sight of the officer and a few surreptitiously covered their faces. quite a few guilty consciouses here.

"Yes sir, we are looking for one Vernon Dursley?" Asked the impossibly old gentleman

Instantly the board members sat back upright and turned to look at him for his response.

"I am.." He cleared his throat and stood up straighter himself. "I am he."

"Excellent!" Said the same man. "This is Jessica Parker from Child Protective services, and we would like to ask you some questions concerning your nephew, Harry Potter."

Then it clicked. The old man was clearly one of their kind. Somebody should really coach them on blending in better.

"Harry potter?" Asked Monika from her seat beside her husband. "Unruly black hair? Green eyes? Round glasses?"

Vernon looked at her wierdly.

"You forgot scrawny and lightning bolt scar, yeah. you know him?" he asked.

"Our daughter is friends with him at their... school for gifted children." Wendell said as he turned to look at the old man and seemed to come to the same conclusion about him. "Did they and Ronald get themselves into another life-threatening situation?"

"Another?" Asked the man. "You say this like its a regular occurrence at the school."

"It is." Vernon, Monika and Wendell said simultaneously.

"And I have the signed medical permission forms they regularly send my wife and I to prove it." Vernon added.

The odd man shared a look with the police officer and CPS worker, who Vernon now realized were both also the M-word, and turned on the husband-and-wife dentists.

"I think it may prudent to invite you two in for questioning as well." He concluded aloud.

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