The Wizengamot along with a whole host of witnesses were present when Harry Potter was convicted. His sentence was death by Dementor's kiss.
"Do you have any last words before sentence is carried out?" Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock asked in a disappointed tone.
Harry Potter, defeater of Voldemort, and all around badass, had nothing to say. After Voldemort had been defeated, Albus Dumbledore had used every but of his manipulation to convince everyone he was a Dark Lord.
Such led to this farce.
"Very well. Release the Dementor."
With that, the gate which kept the dementor on hand from the accused opened and all watched in sick fascination as Harry James Potter was killed at the last.
Suddenly, the entire room froze. Out of the middle of the room, a tear opened. A large figure with wings stepped out.
None could look away, speak or move. The large, winged figure walked over to the dementor and looked at it. Suddenly, the figure spoke.
"Cor blimey! Not one of those! I hate these things." The dementor stood frozen as well. The figure turned and looked around. Seeing a "wise old man" man who seemed to be in charge, he snapped his fingers. "Are you the one who allowed Harry James Potter to be eaten by this demon?"
Albus found he could only speak, not move his body. "His sentence to the Dementor's Kiss was voted on by the Wizengamot. Sentence was just carried out."
The figure sighed. "Well, there's nothing for it."
The figure snapped his fingers again and in his hand he held a scythe. With a quick slash, the dementor was opened up from gullet to navel.
The figure reached in and felt around. "Every time I have to do this it's just as unpleasant as the last time. I really wish he'd stop letting himself die this way."
After a few more minutes the figure stopped. "Aha! There he is."
The figure pulled his hand out. In his hand he held a white ball, glowing brightly. He held it up. "There we go. Aaaaaaand …. No taint. Good. That makes it easier. Thank the boss."
Dumbledore asked, "What was that?"
The figure absently looked back and realized he hadn't relocked the man. Shrugging, he decided to answer. "This is the soul of Harry James Potter – well that's not really his name. That's just who he was this time."
Dumbledore was confused. As he watched the figure starting doing something, he tried to satisfy his curiosity. Dumbledore asked, "Then what was his name?"
"Er. What?" The figure stopped. "Oh, sorry. My mind was distracted. What was his name?" The figure stopped and thought about it. "Actually? I don't rightly know. All I ever knew was his title."
The figure opened a larger tear and called into it. "Hey, Gabriel! Catch! He's got to be sent back to the father but he was eaten again! Put him through a wash first, Ey?"
There was a horn note and the figure nodded and then threw the balled soul through.
The figure snapped his fingers again and a whole horde of beings flew out of the tear. Each was dressed in a cowled black robe and each held a scythe. The numbers seemed unending.
"What's happening?" Dumbledore asked as he was the only one who could talk.
The figure, who has stepped back to get out of the way, turned. "Oh. I have to let the reapers out. You know how hard it is to gather up over 6 billion souls? This will take hours."
"I don't understand," Dumbledore said in growing horror and confusion.
"Well, it's like this." The figure leaned on a desk. "You know about the Boss? The Creator? The one you people call God, right?"
"Yes," Dumbeldore said.
"Well, it's like this," the figure repeated. "There are a whole bunch of dimensions. Every one of them ties up a whole bunch of power in the form of souls. Right? And mostly they start off as pretty neutral. It's hoped that they will live a positive life and move toward a purer form. Unfortunately, sometimes a dimension teeters toward blackening the souls rather than cleaning em. If it gets too bad, the Boss decides that enough is enough and he orders us angels to clean it out. That's what happened a few years ago. But then Harry Potter interfered."
"Interfered?" Dumbledore asked.
"Well, his name isn't really Harry Potter. He's actually the Angel of Last Chances. He agrees to be born in a time and place which is under the greatest threat. If he lives through and can redeem the place, the Boss gives it another chance to turn around before Judgment Day. If he gets killed, however, that's it. Summary Judgment."
"But he was a rising dark lord!"
The figure shook his head. "No. That's what I checked first. There's always a chance the soul will become tainted though he never has. You saw me take it out and look at it. It was as pure as anything – no real taint at all. Still completely under the Boss's grace." The figure snorted. "He couldn't become a Dark Angel if he tried. Boss made him strong that way because of what he has to do – he'll never succumb to temptation. So when he gets killed, we pick him up, wash him off, and send him back to stay in the Boss's presence for a holiday till he's needed again."
Dumbledore, as well as all of those within hearing, were horrified. "So what now? Why can't we move?"
"Well, the entire place has to be recycled. That's every soul collected and then reduced to nothingness. The end of the world, you know? There's too much power tied up and if it ain't workin', the boss sends all the soul material other dimensions. But first there are a few issues."
He looked around. "It's assumed that whoever is around the Angel of Last Chance when he dies, those souls are most likely corrupt. They have to go through a special wash/rinse/wash/rinse/squeeze to pull out the taint. Like this one."
The figure walked over to a frozen Delores Umbridge and swiped his scythe through her. On the scythe was a dark wisp of something. "See that?" He raised his scythe. "This soul is pure taint. Nothing redeeming whatsoever. You know how long it's going to take to clean it? And what would happen if we just let it get out and mix with the 6 billion or so that we have to collect here? That taint would leech out into the rest!" The figure shook his head.
"No. All of you all will be collected special and sorted out just to make sure you don't muck up the rest. And then the whole lot of you, at least your souls, can be remade and put through the redemption cycle again. Let's hope that whatever has your soul parts next time don't muck it up and get the world destroyed again like you did. This is really just a whole headache to handle and it just gets tiring to destroy whole worlds and dimensions."
He raised his arms in outrage. "It quite puts me off me breakfast!"