Thank you to all the people that have reviewed. I've enjoyed reading them all- and I hope that you'll all enjoy (and continue to review!) this new chapter. Same disclaimers apply.
Harry saw the bright lights of the court room above, and almost bit through his lip as his magical energy, confined for so long soared with joy at being allowed sudden freedom. Harry shut his eyes against the bright lights, still seeing spots of colour on the back of his eye lids as he desperately, desperately held close to his magic. Percy's words came flooding back to him. He must control his magic. But after being confined for so long, his magic didn't want to be controlled and pushed against every fibre of his being to be allowed to escape. Harry clamped down hard, using all the skills of occlumency he'd finally mastered to stop the tide, forcefully, painfully stopping the magic in its tracks. His skin crawled painfully, making Harry want to scratch desperately at his already broken skin. His stomach twisted itself into a painful knot, and for a moment Harry didn't just have to fight with his magic, he had to fight with the nausea that threatened to choke him with bile. It took every bit of energy that Harry possessed to not let his magic out in one torrential torrent, and Hermione, watching him fearfully, nails digging deep gouges into Ron's palm whispered continued encouragement, knowing he couldn't hear her, but trying to will him into passivity all the same. She had felt the frisson of energy rush through the courtroom, perhaps more than most because she had been expecting it. She knew that it was dangerous to contain any person's magic, for even a few days. The weeks that Harry had had to endure had built his levels to a dangerous level, where even a simple expelliarmus spell would have probably brought the roof of the building down.
Casper Williams sat at the head of the Wizengamot, smiling with satisfaction as he watched the struggle Harry was having to put up to keep a check on his magic.
Had he known what the force field did? Casper Williams prided himself on always having a ready plan. He'd got twelve OWLs. Passed the NEWTs with flying colours. Been highly trained in the ministry, always on the fast track, never slowing for anyone. And he'd become the youngest Minister for Magic the Wizarding world had had. Except to be the Minister wasn't enough, anymore. He'd needed a new plan. A plan to make him the leader of the Wizarding world. A plan to make him the person that everyone looked up to. And the way he saw it, there was one person who stood in the way. Death was out of the option- Harry Potter would still be regarded for all time as a hero. Shipping him off to a new country. Hounding him day and night to insanity by the press. Each had their merits. But Casper Williams didn't just want Harry Potter gone. He wanted Harry Potter to be disgraced. He wanted the very name Harry Potter to be scorned, ridiculed. He wanted Harry Potter to be shamed, derided.
But how to disgrace the great Harry Potter?
First, take away the notion of him ever being a hero and arrest him for casting an Unforgivable.
Take away the image of a saviour, and replace it with a young, lost boy, looking for attention, and causing the downfall of Wizarding Society.
Take away the image of innocence, and cause fear to be cast at the very mention of the name Harry Potter.
And finally, pit him against his own great power. Make his own magic work against him; make him look insane in front of the braying crowds. Of course Casper Williams knew what the forcefield did. After all, he was always a man with a plan.
To the left of Casper Williams, an assistant stood up, casting sonorous on his voice before addressing the raucous crowds. 'Wizards and Witches, please be upstanding for the Minister of Magic, and the current leader of the Wizengamot Casper Williams.'
Casper Williams rose to his feet, as there was a loud clatter of chairs being pushed back and almost as one the crowds clambered to their feet. There was a loud clatter of applause, a few cheers, and Casper Williams, Minster for Magic, raised his arms, smiling in welcome.
'Ladies and Gentlemen, witches and wizards, thank you.' He spoke, his voice smooth, rich and refined from his time in France and the crowd hung on his every word. 'Thank you for being in attendance as we seek to bring justice back into this world.' Another round of applause, and Casper Williams waited patiently, discreetly watching as Harry Potter struggled even more to cope with his imploding magic as the noise level rose and fell. 'Today, for the first time, a mercenary is on trial for crimes committed in the second war. Harry Potter-' (dead silence followed the name, which Casper Williams took as a good sign) 'acted against sanctioned Ministry protocol to cast an Unforgivable against another wizard.'
'Rubbish!' The voice came from the back of the court, startling everyone. 'Harry Potter acted-' but nothing followed, as the protester was quickly surrounded by guards and forced from the room.
'As I was saying,' Casper Williams smoothly carried on as if there hadn't been an interruption, 'this court session will follow Ministry protocol. Starting today, the evidence in prosecution for the crimes aforementioned will be offered before the Wizengamot. Following this, a Wizengamot appointed official will question the defendant. Finally, the defendant will be allowed to speak on his own defence. Then the Wizengamot will have an open vote on the guilt of the defendant. Sentencing, if the defendant is found guilty, will follow.'
The crowd were nodding now. This was how it was to be. Casper Williams allowed an indulgent smile to grace his face, a glance, quickly missed by the large crowds, of triumph shot in the direction of the defendant.
Harry remembered the first time he'd seen the current Minster for Magic. It had been a chance meeting, actually, back in his second year, the year he'd stumbled out of a floo a stop too late and had ended up wandering Knockturn Alley. Casper Williams had been stood outside one of the shops, thumbing through a second hand book collection. It had taken him an age to remember that. But then, he'd had a lot of time to think, recently. The first time he'd spoken to him had been barely a week before his arrest. Casper Williams had congratulated him then. On his "swift resolution of You Know Who". Harry had thanked him politely.
He'd seen him a few times after his arrest, whilst he was confined in Azkaban waiting for the trial. They'd never spoken. Casper Williams had just stood, half hidden in the shadows, that same look of triumph gracing his face. Smug git. The roar of approval of his magic to his feelings made him almost melt the metal cage he stood in.
A healer from St Mungos was first on the stand. Detailing the injuries sustained by Voldemort. Or He Who Must Never Be Named Just In Case His Combusted Ass Suddenly Should Un-Combust. A wand expert followed, waving around Harry's favourite possession, his wand, making up all sorts of words to sound important and worthy of a place on the stand.
What soon became obvious was the lack of information they had about the curse that had finally killed Voldemort. Ronald Weasley had to smile about that one. That was because the curse didn't exist, outside of Hermione's researching skills, and the mind of Harry Potter. He didn't pay much attention to the "experts". Hermione, he knew, would fill him in on the highlights later. He looked down at his hand, which Hermione still clung to in desperation. He wondered if the feeling would ever return to the tips of his fingers.
He couldn't see Harry clearly. The familiar shock of untidy black hair, the tattered, dirtied robes hanging from a gaunt frame. He couldn't see his face. Couldn't meet his eye. Couldn't give him a look to convey how he, Ron, had never believed the sanctimonious twittering of the stupid git, or Minister of Magic as he was more widely known as, Casper William.
Couldn't just try and share in his pain somehow, shoulder some of it himself, help out his best friend. It wasn't fair. He and Hermione might not have stood on the field before Voldemort. They might not have fought the dark lord, or pointed a wand at him, or whispered a curse. But they'd been there. They had stayed up night after night, week after week, researching anything, anything that might just kill Voldemort. They had been there with the copious amounts of caffeine, hidden under the too small invisibility cloak, giggling, and not sure why they were giggling, but giggling was better than crying. While they hadn't been the ones to curse Voldemort (well, not with a wand, anyway) they'd both been just as involved, just as guilty as Harry was, if that was the way their esteemed leader wanted it. But neither of them was Harry Potter. Neither of them was the Boy Who Lived. Or the Boy Who Had Cursed The Living Daylights Out Of He Who Must Never Be Named Because Didn't You Know That Saying His Name Was So Bloody Dangerous?
No, they were just the sidekicks. Harry Potter on the stand was the real prize. Ron just got Hermione's nails scored into his palms, and a bitter helplessness that he could be so involved and yet now couldn't do a bloody thing about it.
Rubbish. It was all Rubbish. Clever, maybe. Very clever. But rubbish all the same. Because what do you do when the defendant didn't actually cast the spell he is accused of? Make up a load of tosh instead to make the spell seem so much worse that the worst unforgivable.
Of course there were spells that were dangerous. Used out of context, used in the wrong situation, used for spite, any spell had the potential to be dangerous. Why, they, or Ron anyway, had managed to knock out a troll with a Wingardium Leviosa. In the first year.
And of course there were some really dangerous spells, that whilst weren't considered unforgivable, they could still kill, or significantly hurt someone. During their research Hermione had been horrified by some of the spells she had seen, their effect on people. And here were all these specialists, standing there stating that this spell, although not one of the Unforgivables, was so much worse than all of these spells combined. And whilst they didn't want to go into detail of such a spell, because, you know, it was far too dangerous and all that, yet, the spell had certainly been deadly. And the caster of such a spell? Well he couldn't be good and have so much power, surely.
Ironic really, that the spell, as they called it, didn't really exist, as such. Although Hermione reckoned that probably wouldn't really help in the situation. The spell that had destroyed Voldemort's soul. Exploded it into a thousand pieces. Wasn't really a bad spell as such. It only worked so well because Voldemort had so little soul left to destroy after splitting it into all those Horcruxes. And once his soul was destroyed, it really hadn't been much extra to destroy his body as well.
What did these people want? A nice peaceful situation. How did you negotiate with someone who was so keen to kill everyone? How did you find a peaceful ending when someone like Voldemort is bringing a reign of terror against everybody and everything? They had already closed down the floo system. They had already stopped apparation outside of guaranteed points. They had already closed Hogwarts, ceased trading at Diagon Alley, closed Gringotts down, boarded up Hogsmeade. They had already made so many concessions to Voldemort, and yet, did they really think there was going to be a peaceful solution after that? A way to negotiate?
Yes, you can kill all the muggles in the world, but leave the wizards alone.
Ok, you can have the muggle borns too.
Okay, we'll change our laws to meet your needs. If only, you know, you'll stop killing so many people and casting that awful dark mark into the sky.
We'll change our way of life…oh, yeah, we already done that one.
Hermione lay in bed, a sarcastic laugh bubbling in the back of her throat as tears pooled at the edge of her eyes. And tomorrow there would be the psychologist, there would be the Dark Arts specialist. The head auror. The janitor. On and on, bamboozling the people with jargon, stretching out the time Harry had to sit there, controlling his magic, until the inevitable happened and that control slipped just a little, and they really did have a legitimate reason to bound Harry over to Azkaban.