Wow. The length of the reviews I got in the past few days was incredibly staggering. I am truly grateful, for your input, and will endeavor to apply these ideas to my story. I'm sure many of you face-palmed when Harry ate the electricity. I'm aware that it came off as a convenient power-up, and to be honest, I really bungled my way through that one. I won't change it, though.
Still, the points made about the trial were great. I definitely don't want Harry to come off as a ranting child, but would rather have him set the tone, and maneuver his way through every single issue that arises in the Ministry. With that said, the Harry in my story has learned to be quite emotionless if he wants to be. I'm sure many of people lurking on the internet know what I'm talking about when you hear your close friends and family whine about you having a robotic personality. That was why I named the previous chapter "Arctic Fury", because there's a difference between a hothead, and someone who manages to keep their cool in bad situations.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
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Lightning Dragon's Roar
A Harry Potter Fanfiction
By Zero Rewind
© 2014
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Chapter 5: The Farce
I had planned on making an impressive entrance, to set the tone for how the meeting was going to progress. I had enough of being kept in the dark, and felt I deserved to know what's going on. After all, the gaping people in front of me would have never known Voldemort had come back if it weren't for me.
I certainly did impress, but would that shrieking hag shut the fuck up already?
"One moment." I turned, walked outside, past my friends. I stood in front of the shrieking portrait that used to be covered by the curtains I passed by earlier. So that's what it was hiding. Ugly bitch, with an ugly mouth.
"-How dare you befoul the house of my fathers, half-breed scum! Begone from this g-"
"Are you quite done?" I said loudly, gaining the portrait's attention. The woman in the portrait gave me a cold, appraising gaze, before snarling at me.
"Who are you, boy?" She asked, though from my wild mop of hair, she probably had an idea.
"Harry Potter." I smirked at the portrait.
"Blood-traitor!" She accused, and it looked as if another rant was going to begin.
"That may very well be, but I don't believe in such idiotic concepts such as the existence 'purebloods', 'half-bloods', and 'mudbloods'. I have more power in my snot than most 'purebloods' have in their entire bodies; or corpses after I'm through with them. I suggest you behave yourself, worm, before I obliterate you, just like I did the door behind me." I threatened and boasted at the same time. The witch in the portrait actually looked cowed, to the surprise of those attending the meeting.
"Will wonders never cease...?" I heard Sirius not-so-quietly say to Remus, who still looked completely gobsmacked.
"Thank you." I gave a polite nod, before heading back into the room. They were all staring at me with a mix of fear, astonishment and wariness. All except for Sirius, who had made his way toward me, giving me a hug, which I returned wholeheartedly. I missed my godfather. It was good to be in his presence again.
"Pull up a few chairs for us, will you?" I asked Sirius, who nodded and began to wave his wand.
Mrs. Weasley seemed to shake off her stupor at that moment.
"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Most of us had to cover our ears. That woman sure could yell! "How dare you barge into this meeting! You're not of age! You're too young-"
But she stopped at the utterly baleful look I gave her.
"Too young, am I?" I calmly repeated her words, malice dripping like venom off of my tongue, making her flinch. "Was I too young last June, when my wrist was sliced open and I was subjected to a few Cruciatus curses thanks to our dear Lord Voldemort?" Most of the room flinched at the name, and grimaced painfully at the mention of what happened to me during the Third Task.
"No answer?" I smiled, as Sirius finished conjuring the last of the needed chairs for my friends— who were already inside. Dumbledore gave Sirius a disapproving look, but did not protest my presence. Molly was so shocked that she didn't even tell Ron to leave, either.
Ignoring all the stares, I sat down, my friends following suit. The table was littered with many rolls of parchment, various scrolls, and the like. Looks like Dumbledore's fighting an information war here.
"By all means, continue with the meeting." I said without a care in the world. Snape seemed to want to say something, but thought better of it.
"...As you wish, Harry." Dumbledore acknowledged my request with a nod. That was the first thing he'd said since I entered the room. Maybe he wasn't as much of a manipulative bastard as I'd led myself to believe. Just goes to show that the best of us— me, of course— could be wrong.
"You can't be serious, Dumbledore!" Molly pleaded with the venerable old wizard, who gave her a kind smile.
"You are right, Molly. In fact, Sirius is right over there." He pointed towards my godfather, who grimaced. Some chuckled at the humor, while the rest face-palmed.
"This is no laughing matter!" Molly insisted, not glancing my way at all. Her attitude needed to change, because this dismissal of my worth as a member of this group was beginning to get on my nerves.
"Indeed it is not, Molly. However," Dumbledore began gravely. "If I ask Harry to leave this meeting, I have no doubt as to what comes next." The old wizard gave me a pointed look, as if knowing exactly what I was going to do.
"And what is the Gryffindor golden boy going to do exactly? Go cry to his friends? Throw a tantrum?" Snape asked, his typical sneer plastered on this place. Perhaps he did not quite understand the implications what I just did.
"Oh, it's very simple." I laughed, and sent a cruel smile in Snape's direction. "I would leave this cozy little building you have going here, and proceed to systematically maim or brutally cripple every single Death Eater that I manage to find." The fact that I uttered that sentence so nonchalantly made the occupants of the room feel a chill creeping up their spines. Even Snape looked slightly green at the admission. Dumbledore had an understanding, yet reproachful look— somehow with no twinkly eyes this time— on his face. Dumbledore was not acting like I thought he would. I had fully expected him to throw me out of the meeting, to be honest. Then I'd have to fight the war alone, which involved indiscriminate murder. I was prepared to follow through with it, but would've much preferred to be part of this Order thing instead. Less work to be done, and all.
"Not quite exactly what I had in mind, but yes." Dumbledore answered politely, giving me a look that said 'words will be exchanged, later'. I nodded curtly.
"Let us get back to the contents of the meeting." Professor Dumbledore's eyes began to twinkle in full blast again. "For those of you who have not started the meeting with us—" the headmaster motioned to my friends and I, "Arthur has informed us that he has found some slight success in getting a few members of the Ministry to join our cause, and Remus has met with failure in his task to sway the werewolves to our side." He ignored the annoyed look Lupin sent him before turning to Bill Weasley.
"What of the goblins at Gringotts?" Dumbledore asked genially.
"They're not giving anything away yet." Bill answered shortly. "I still can't work out whether they believe he's back or not. Of course, they might prefer not to take sides at all. Keep out of it."
"I'm sure they'd never go over to You-Know-Who." Mr. Weasley shook his head. "They've suffered losses too. Remember that goblin family he murdered last time, somewhere near Nottingham?" That got a few whispers going around.
"I think it depends on what they're offered." Lupin interjected. "And I'm not talking about gold; if they're offered freedoms we've been denying them for centuries they're going to be tempted. Have you still not had any luck with Ragnok, Bill?"
Bill grimaced in response. "He's feeling pretty anti-wizard right now, thanks to Bagman not paying them back, and the Ministry covering it all up. They won't be flocking to our side anytime soon, but I believe that they will at most, be neutral."
"It is better than the alternative." Dumbledore concluded, and many other wizards and witches nodded in agreement. He then turned to Severus.
"What news do you bring of Lord Voldemort-" cue flinches, "-Severus?"
Snape huffed as he gave me another one of his patented Death Glares™, before dutifully reporting.
"The Dark Lord has been lying low, attempting to avoid the watchful eyes of the law. I do not believe that any attacks have been sanctioned as of yet-" I snorted loudly at that, making him stop.
"Anything to share, Potter?" Snape challenged.
"Yeah." I answered. "The Muggles have already been attacked by Death Eaters; some of them have even retaliated."
Worried whispers were now being exchanged.
"And how would you know of such information?" Snape asked accusingly.
"Ever hear of the internet?" I scoffed at his disbelief, and the baseless accusation. Almost no one seemed to recognize the term, unfortunately. Wizards were truly ignorant of the coming of the new age, weren't they?
"What is this 'inter net' you speak of?" Dumbledore interjected before things degenerated any further.
"It's... Well... Give me a second, I need to figure out a good definition." I stalled a bit, thinking of the best way to describe what the internet is to technophobic people. "It's made by Muggles, of course. They've placed many series of satellites that fly in orbit around the planet, transmitting information to each other. With the help of computers, which is a machine that functions like a library—among other things, they can access this network of satellites, and post anything they like, be it the written word, images, or videos. This is all incredibly fast, as the information is transmitted at the speed of light, which is around three hundred million meters per second." I purposefully gave the speed in meters per second to stress how inconceivable such a speed is. "That's enough speed to run across the perimeter of the Earth in less than an eighth of a second."
I took a deep breath, before continuing.
"Videos are what we wizards like to call moving pictures, only they have the added benefit of sound. It's more reminiscent of a Pensieve memory, actually." I explained to alleviate some of the confusion, giving a nod to Dumbledore. "And lately, many videos have been posted, about people in masks and robes waving sticks, making houses and streets explode in great bursts of fire. One bloke from Bulgaria actually kept a gun— a miniature cannon, if you don't know what a gun is— on him at all times, and recorded himself killing a Death Eater, before taking his wand and his potions. I believe he was arrested by the local Muggle police force shortly afterwards, for first-degree murder."
"4chan?" Dudley whispered next to me.
"Yeah. Googled the scientific info, as well."
"Knew it."
"Heh."
Our exchange was ignored by the wizards around us, whose whispers were growing louder and louder. Ron looked completely out of his element, while Hermione looked impressed at the knowledge I'd spewed out. Mr. Weasley looked quite excited at the impromptu lesson. I resolved to show him a few gadgets later.
I turned to Snape, giving him an insincere smile. "My apologies for the rudeness of my interruption. Please continue with your report, Professor Snape."
The greasy haired man gave me another glare, before resuming. "I amend my previous statement by saying that I am not privy to all the plans that the Dark Lord deigns to share with me. With that said, these attacks could simply be the result of our new foreign recruits foolishly making attempts at impressing the Dark Lord. It is, of course, a futile gesture."
I nodded, having figured the same thing.
"As for the object that he is seeking..." Snape paused dramatically. Sheesh. "It seems as if he prefers the anonymity given to him by the Ministry's refusal to acknowledge his existence. Thus, he chooses not to step foot inside of the Ministry, or any public place for that matter, instead focusing his efforts on recruiting any and all who follow his cause from outside of the country."
"So it is safe." Dumbledore seemed to sag slightly in relief. I wanted to ask what it was, but I figured Dumbledore would tell me after this meeting during our talk.
"For now, yes." Snape confirmed, before sitting back down. He gave me a heated glare, which I ignored.
The rest of the meeting seemed to go by smoothly. The members of the Order who were Aurors said that they'd got a couple of people to listen to them, but most of the Department refused to talk to them, being immensely loyal to Director Amelia Bones, who was Susan's aunt, if I remembered correctly.
Dumbledore stood to address everyone.
"I believe we have reached the end of our weekly meeting. If any of you would like to stay behind and have dinner, you are— of course— welcome to do so." Dumbledore announced the end of the meeting, before motioning for me to follow as he left the room.
"I'll see you guys in a bit, I'm sure this conversation will have to be private." I said to Hermione, Dudley and Ron, who gave nods of acknowledgement, before leisurely making my way outside.
"So, when did you lose all that weight?" I heard Ron ask as I left the room, and suppressed a snicker. Typical Ron, putting his foot in his mouth. The two would likely grill Dudley on what's been going on with me the past summer. I waved at Fred, George and Ginny, who were looking at me like I was some amazing hero. Likely, they had overheard the entire meeting due to the fact that I pulverized the door. I was surprised a new one wasn't conjured.
Hell, I was surprised I wasn't attacked by everyone. I shook these feelings of confusion off, and entered through another door in the hallway. It was a living room, from what I could tell. A few couches here and there, some dark-themed tapestry— hell, the whole house was dark-themed. I actually preferred the colors, having spent many nights with the lights off, in front of my computer screen. Didn't want to hurt my head too badly.
Dumbledore had already taken one of the couches, and was enjoying a nice lemon drop.
"Ah, hello Harry." Professor Dumbledore greeted me with a smile. He held out a few wrapped candies. "Lemon drop?"
"That would be nice, thanks." I took the proffered candy, unwrapping it and sliding it in my mouth. Would've preferred the taste of oranges, or maybe the taste of cola, like those gummies, but you can't have everything in life, sadly. I took a seat across from the old wizard, wondering what he was going to say.
"I find myself not quite sure how to start this conversation, dear boy." Dumbledore admitted, giving me a rueful look.
"Eh?" I gave the man a surprised look. "I honestly thought we were going to have a huge argument about how I should be more forgiving and less cruel. Maybe compare me to Voldemort or something, in some last ditch attempt to veer me off of the dark side or something." That seemed to make Dumbledore grimace in pain.
"I would never presume to tell you how you should feel or act, Harry." The man waved off my thoughts. "Worry not, you are not the only wizard who had the thought of taking up arms and hunting down the Death Eaters."
"I'm not?" I repeated. "Who else thought about it? Sirius? Moody probably?"
"Among a few others, yes. Myself included." Wait, did he just say that? "I am fully aware of my capabilities with a wand, my boy. Even with the powers you have shown me today, I would still beat you with ease. Moreover, I am most certainly capable of laying waste to all of the Death Eaters. Perhaps not all at once, of course..."
"Well, why don't we?" I tried not to be intimidated by that casual admission of him being stronger than me, and got the conversation back on track.
"You already know the answer to that, don't you, Harry?" Dumbledore urged, and it all came to me in one impassioned speech I'd read about a few weeks ago.
"The cycle of hatred, huh?" I just couldn't stay angry at the old man. The words came to me, having memorized them. "War brings death... and wounds, and pain to both sides. There's nothing harder to accept than the-the deaths of those we love...," I stuttered slightly, and swallowed a sudden lump in my throat. "Because we believe they could never die. We try to find meaning in death, but there is only pain, and never-ending hatred."
"Cedric-" I stopped to compose myself. "Cedric pretty much died instantly. It was like- like he was considered as trash to Voldemort, not even worth the effort to acknowledge. Voldemort called him the spare. And now Cedric's parents are in great pain, because of Riddle. It made me angry, restless. Many time, I searched the depths of my soul, and found I was capable of terrible, indescribable things; and I'm not talking about the lightning."
I stopped for a moment, turning to the headmaster, who was giving me a mixed look of sadness and pride.
"I am sorry, my boy."
"Sorry for what?" I was genuinely curious.
"I should have protected you, all these years. I did not want you to suffer. I thought I was doing what was best, to keep you away from the fame." The man buried his face in his hands, looking every bit the age that he is. It made me squirm uncomfortably. Leaders shouldn't show weakness like this. Damn it to hell, Dumbledore wasn't supposed to be so human! I wanted to be angry at him so badly, but I found myself soothing the man instead.
"It's all right."
"It is not." Dumbledore disagreed vehemently. "I was not capable of guaranteeing your safety last year. The Tournament's binding contract had completely forbidden any help I could have given you. For that, I can never apologize enough."
"Stop beating yourself up over it, old man." I said gruffly, not wanting to deal with that terrible year just yet. The whole thing was a huge blur of successive life-threatening experiences. "I'm alive, you're alive, we can deal with it."
"In fact," I continued, gaining the man's attention. "I had a couple of ideas I wanted to bounce off of you for the trial I have to go to soon. Care to help me?"
"I would be glad to." Dumbledore's smile was almost radiant, his eyes slightly misty, still refusing to meet my own.
"And I hope you'll let me know why you've been avoiding my eyes ever since I stepped foot in this place."
Dumbledore had a slightly sheepish expression on his face. It was so out of place, I had to laugh.
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The days passed quite quickly, as I immersed myself in legal books and the like. Ron was as useful as a sack of potatoes in that regard, but Hermione was a boon. Dudley was helping clean out the house in place of Sirius, who decided to study the books alongside me.
"I would've never thought I would attempt to bond with you by studying books." Here, Sirius faked a cringe. "But I'd say it was well worth it."
"Fuck yeah, it was. There is no way they can expel me from Hogwarts now." I had said confidently, though I still felt slightly nervous on the inside. Professor Dumbledore— or Albus, as he'd insisted on me calling him— seemed to agree with the idea that I shared. Of course, the first line of defense would be the fact that I was defending myself, as Hermione had explained; there was a provision in the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Sorcery put in place to allow underage students to defend themselves against whatever threat they face.
However, I was going to push for my idea even if I'm cleared of all charges. Since they'd essentially forced me to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, which was supposed to be held for adults, I could make the sound argument that I was to be declared an adult. After all, my participation was acknowledged by the British, French and Bulgarian ministries, so there is a legal groundwork to build from.
The trip to the Ministry was something of a blur, as I'd repeated my ideas over and over in my head, not willing to make any mistakes. We signed in at the Ministry, going through all the stupid procedure, and I was finally sporting a badge that said "Harry Potter, Disciplinary Hearing". As per the usual course, people stared like I was some kind of circus sideshow, as we went past the many departments to finally reach courtroom ten. Dudley and I entered through the large, grimy door without any hesitation, noting that the dungeon I found myself in was the very same one I'd seen in Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve.
"You're late." I heard a cold, male voice say.
"My apologies, I was under the impression that the hearing was to take place at 9:00 AM?" I asked politely, yet coldly as well.
"That is not the Wizengamot's fault," the voice retorted. "An owl was sent to you this morning. Take your seat."
"Indeed?" Dudley and I nonchalantly walked to the mentioned seat, staring up at the body of Wizards before us. "Knowing that an owl traverses the skies at an average speed of forty miles per hour, and considering that the Ministry itself opens at around 7:00 AM, it would've taken the owl to reach my home in around... five hours, give or take ten minutes. Food for thought, perhaps?" I gave a nasty grin, and the Minister had the decency to look slightly cowed. The Wizengamot began to whisper as I took my seat, gazing at the assembly of wizards. Dudley stood next to me.
There were about fifty of them, all wearing dark red robes with an elaborate silver W on the left hand side of the chest. Most were staring at me in curiosity, while some did so with anger. I could care less, and stared at the Minister as he began speaking.
"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," Fudge began, and I noticed Percy Weasley taking notes off to the side. Huh, the little bitch was here? Fudge continued, "Into offenses committed under the Decree for Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."
"Interrogators, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley —"
"— Witness for the defense, Dudley Vernon Dursley." I interrupted the dictation.
"And Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." Another voice said from behind me. I turned to see Dumbledore pleasantly striding across the room in his midnight-blue robes, looking like he had not a care in the world. He stared up at the assembly, daring them to say anything.
"Ah," Fudge looked disconcerted. "Dumbledore. Yes. You — er — got our — er — message that the time and — er — place of the hearing had been changed, then?"
"I must have missed it," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done. Although it bears to mention that I would have not received the owl until tomorrow, since I reside at Hogwarts Castle itself."
Good. He had heard my argument, and applied it to himself. If a teenager like me said it, they wouldn't even care. If Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, a respectable wizard with a long line of accomplishments said it, it would be taken quite seriously. We succeeded in setting the tone, but the battle was far from over.
"But alas, it is not time for such inquiries just yet." Albus said, interrupting whatever Fudge was going to say, and conjured two chairs right next to mine. With a muttered thanks, Dudley gratefully took his seat.
"Indeed," Fudge shuffled his notes, pulling out a piece of parchment. "The charges against the accused are as follows: that he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar char-"
"Objection!" I called out immediately.
"What?" Fudge lost his momentum.
"The said warning was sent to my house because Dobby the house-elf performed a Hover Charm. I was told by the Ministry workers that the warning would be removed from my record. Was it not done?"
"It is true, Minister." The witch with the monocle said. What's wrong with glasses? "That warning should have been removed from our records a few years ago."
"I see... There must have been an error in our filing." Fudge looked like he ate something sour. "But it still does not excuse the fact that you knowingly conjured the Patronus on the night of the second of August, in the presence of a Muggle, while you are underage!"
"What Muggle?" I asked easily, having rehearsed that part in my head.
"Why, the boy sitting next to you of course. Mr. Dudley Vernon Dursley."
"I see. Mr. Dudley Dursley," I said loudly, not letting them interrupt me. "Is my cousin, first of all. So while I might have violated the Decree for using underage magic, the International Statute of Secrecy has not been violated."
"B-but... Director Bones?" He turned to Amelia.
"His logic is quite sound, though he has admitted to conjuring a Patronus." Amelia answered fairly, giving me an interested, if a little bit annoyed, gaze. Must be because I keep interrupting the fucker in charge. Oh well, no skin off my nose.
"Yes, yes." Fudge tried to get his prosecution rolling again. "So you have conjured a Patronus, knowing that it is illegal to use magic outside of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"
"What is the Patronus Charm used for?" I answered with a question of my own.
"Wha- This is no time for lessons, Mr. Potter!"
"Perhaps the boy ought to be restrained..." A witch with a face that made toads look amazing said, while others around her shook their heads in the negative at such a suggestion. They were already in deep, considering that one of them changed the meeting time, knowing full well that the defendants would be late— even some of the Wizengamot members had arrived around twenty minutes before Harry did— and then followed by attempting to tie in the crime to a previous crime that was supposed to be stricken from the records.
"The Patronus Charm," I continued as if I didn't hear Fudge or the toad bitch. "Is an immensely complicated, very difficult spell that evokes a partially-tangible positive energy force known as a Patronus or spirit guardian. It is the primary protection against Dementors and Lethifolds, to which there is no other protection."
"The point that I'm trying to make here, my fellow wizards," I said before someone could yell at me to get to the point. "Is that I was forced to use the Patronus Charm to ward off a duo of Dementors that had attacked my cousin and I."
The silence was deafening. I looked to Dumbledore, who gave me a nod. So far so good.
"Dementors?" Madam Bones repeated after a moment. "In Little Whinging?"
"I thought we'd be hearing something like this." Fudge quipped gleefully, no doubt thinking the slandering words of the Daily Prophet would back him up.
"I don't understand—" Amelia began.
"Don't you, Amelia?" Fudge asked with a smirk. "Allow me to explain. He's been thinking it through and decided dementors would make a very nice little cover story, very nice indeed. Muggles can't see dementors, can they, boy?" He asked condescendingly.
"I did see them." Dudley said loudly, and clearly. "They were the most horrifying things I'd seen in my entire life. Everything became so cold, and it felt like I would never be happy again."
"You- What? Muggles can't see dementors! So how could you have seen it?" He sputtered in rage.
"Maybe because he's not a Muggle." I pointed out. "You have no interest in seeking out Squibs born to Muggle families, so you had no way of knowing if he was Squib or Muggle. I believe there is a spell to identify if a person is a Squib or a Muggle?"
"Indeed, Mr. Potter." Madame Bones confirmed, before motioning to one of the nearby Aurors to cast the spell. The man waved his wand in an intricate pattern over Dudley, before nodding and turning to the Wizengamot.
"Mr. Dudley Dursley is a Squib." He announced loudly, before walking back to his position, ignoring the whispers of the Wizengamot.
Feeling that I was getting control, I decided to nip the whole situation in the bud.
"Seeing as we have confirmed that my cousin, Mr. Dursley is a Squib, I repeat the fact that we encountered two dementors on our way home. I was quite aware of the restriction against underage magic, and ordered Mr. Dursley to run to the safety of our home with me. We ran at full sprint, afraid we would die the entire time, for over five minutes. We reached the half-point to the house, when we collapsed in exhaustion. The dementors were not tired in the least. I was forced to defend our lives by casting the Patronus Charm. I believe there is a provision in the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, allowing for self-defense. Is that correct?" I said breathlessly, looking at Amelia Bones. Seemed as if she was the only one interested in upholding the law here.
"That is true, Mr. Potter. We have that provision in place for emergencies such as this. Do you confirm what Mr. Potter has said, Mr. Dursley?"
"I do."
"Anything to add, Mr. Potter?" Fudge seethed angrily. Looks like this wasn't going his way at all.
"Only that I am willing to testify under Veritaserum, and provide Pensieve Memories if you are not already convinced that I was defending myself."
"That will not be needed." Fudge was red with anger, but didn't say anything further. "We shall begin the ruling."
"Those in favor of conviction?" Amelia Bones' voice boomed across the dungeon.
Around a dozen of them raised their hands, Fudge and Umbridge included. And what a surprise, Lucius Malfoy was here. I wonder why his mouth stayed shut? I glanced at Dumbledore next to me, who winked mischievously.
"Those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?"
The rest of the room, an overwhelming majority, raised their hands. I sighed in relief, but steeled myself; it was time to push my idea forward.
"Excellent." Dumbledore said quickly, springing to his feet, addressing the Wizengamot before they could leave. "However, there is something else Mr. Harry Potter would like bring up."
"Ah- What would that be, Mr. Potter?" Fudge asked, looking at me with badly disguised malice.
"A few things, really." I said nonchalantly, and waved for everyone to sit down. Surprisingly, they complied.
"To begin, I would like for this hearing to be publicized— word, for word, mind you— in the Daily Prophet, with no lies whatsoever. No strange angle. I've been reading that newspaper, and I do not appreciate being called a liar. Nor do I appreciate the fact that I've been tried in front of the entire body of the Wizengamot— I believe that is what happens to adults in the Wizarding World." I stressed the word 'adult.'
"We do not control what the Daily Prophet says." Fudge answered quickly.
"Sure you don't." I gave a smirk in response. "Aside from the article I wish for you to publish, I would like to be declared as an emancipated minor immediately."
THAT got the whispers going.
"On what grounds?" Said a member from the right.
"Yes, we don't exactly give our own children free rein to use their magic, so why should you be allowed?" Another said. There were murmurs of agreement.
"I'm afraid that the law requires you to do so, unfortunately." I said gravely, getting expressions of confusion in return.
"Explain." Madam Bones ordered, not appreciative of my dramatic tone.
"As I've mentioned, I have just been tried as an adult." I repeated, before continuing over Fudge's protest. "And I'm sure you remember the Triwizard Tournament that I won last June?" I got nods of confirmation from the wizards. "The same tournament that required applicants to be of age for the chance to participate. As you know, my name was entered illegally in the hopes that I'd get killed during one of the three tasks we champions had to beat. I was forced to participate thanks to a magically binding agreement that the ministries of Britain, France and Bulgaria acknowledged. In the eyes of the laws of three different countries, I have legally been an adult for over a year. Another point as to why this trial was such a farce." I spat out the last word, not caring whether this hurt their sensibilities or not.
I relished in the uncomfortable looks I got from the decrepit old wizards and witches who ruled our population.
Who said stomping on politics wasn't fun?
ooooooooooooooo
Well, that's that. I enjoyed writing this. If you're confused about Harry's flip flop personality, don't be. At the moment, he is trying to reconcile what his mind's telling him ("Kill Voldemort and all of his followers") and what his heart's telling him ("Stop Voldemort, but don't hurt the blameless.")
The Death Eater children were only what their environment made them, and Harry understands that.
What do you think?