Disclaimer: I'm afraid that my limited brain capacity would never allow me to produce such a wonderful concept as Harry Potter, nor would my finances allow me to buy him. Therefore, I regretfully state that I own neither Harry Potter, nor any other characters that you may recognize. I'm not even sure if I own the plot.
Note: I'm assuming that you already know the basic story of Harry Potter from books 1 through 5.
'Italics' stand for thoughts/letters or text
Chapter Seventeen: The Mad Minister
Day Five, Afternoon:
All of a sudden, there was a flash of flame, and Fawkes appeared. The magnificent bird let out a trill that instantly soothed Harry's panic before flying to rest on his shoulder, nibbling his ear.
"Thanks, Fawkes," Harry whispered in relief, stroking the bright plumage. Looking up again, he asked, "Do you believe me now?"
"Professor?" Hermione ventured. "Is that…is that really Fawkes? It's not a trick, is it?"
Dumbledore examined at the phoenix carefully. Then, he leaned back and smiled, the twinkle in his eye beginning to return. "That is indeed Fawkes. It appears I owe you an apology, Harry."
Harry relaxed and returned the smile. Personally, he thought they placed a little too much faith in Fawkes's judgment, but he was hardly going to complain. "It's okay, Professor. I understand how you would have been suspicious."
"Er…were you serious about the alternate dimension thing?" Ron asked cautiously.
"Yes, I was," Harry replied firmly, looking his best friend in the eye. "Do you believe me?"
The redhead too a deep breath, obviously fighting an internal battle, before he nodded. "Yes. I believe you. I'm sorry, mate; I should have known you'd never go Dark."
"Me too," Hermione whispered. "I…I wasn't thinking right."
"I—" Harry began, but before he could respond, the door flew open to admit the Minister of Magic. Behind him trailed the group of Aurors whom McGonagall had been trying to tell Dumbledore about.
"Dumbledore! What is going on?" Fudge demanded. "Is it true that Potter's become a Death Eater?"
"Certainly not, Cornelius," Dumbledore answered calmly. "If you will just look over there, you can see quite clearly that he doesn't have the Dark Mark."
"What happened out there earlier?" Fudge continued. "What was that explosion?" Whirling around, he glared at Harry. "What did you do?"
Eyes narrowing, Harry lifted his head and met the Minister's gaze defiantly. "I killed Voldemort, sir."
"Preposterous; you couldn't possibly be capable of such a thing!" Fudge snapped. "Tell me the truth!"
Exasperated, Harry threw his hands in the air and yelled, "Why won't you people believe me?"
"Where's your proof?" Fudge countered stubbornly.
A new thought occurred to Harry. "Professor, may I borrow your Pensieve?" he requested politely.
"Certainly," the Headmaster agreed, producing the stone basin.
Carefully, Harry drew his memory of Voldemort's demise from his head and dropped it in. "There you go, Minister," he invited, waving towards the silvery threads in the Pensieve. "I'm sure that will answer all of your questions."
Still looking suspicious, Fudge and a few of the Aurors crowded around the Pensieve and disappeared into its depths. They returned a few minutes later, somewhat shaken up. Most of them seemed shocked. Fudge, however, was smirking.
"Aurors, arrest him!" he ordered, pointing to Harry.
"What?" Harry spluttered, backing up in alarm. "What for?"
"Harry didn't do anything!" Hermione added furiously. "You can't arrest him for no reason!"
"Oh, there certainly is a reason. You, Harry James Potter, are under arrest for attempting to join the Death Eaters," Fudge announced smugly. "The penalty for such a crime is a life sentence in Azkaban."
