Chapter 9:

Long-Overdue Fallout

Edited/Proofread by Demon Ging

Arriane Cauderdale, as was her modus operandi, had her nose buried in a textbook as she ate breakfast at the Slytherin table. As was also normal for her, she was losing more spoonfuls of food on her blouse as they missed the target of her mouth due to her engrossment in the primer and transmutation of precious metals and gems and the theory behind spells that bridge the gap between transfiguration and alchemy.

Okay, maybe the subject matter of today's absentmindedness was unusual, but her overall morning routine was intact.

And then Wendy had to interrupt her morning by poking her in the rib with her fork.

"Hey. Heeeey," She whisper-hissed at her.

"What," Cauderdale growled, not looking up from her book.

The giddiness in the prefect's voice should have clued her in that she wasn't going to like what was coming, the failed Head Girl always tried to torment the successful Head Girl. This was usually benign bullshit she couldn't care about, but today's pile of bovine fecal matter sounded particularly juicy by the tone of her frenemy's voice.

"Didn't you hear? Your boyfriend was arrested," Wendy grinned at her.

Arrianna froze—The ten-hour spell-enchantment hybrid for transmuting turquoise into sapphire long forgotten.

Surreptitiously, or as surreptitiously as she could with Wendy's catlike grin and wide-eyed fascination inches from her own face, she glanced up at the head table. She made a show of checking on Dumbledore's demeanor but in the periphery examining her Head of House. Both looked especially haggard—like they'd been through a long night with little sleep—but otherwise, nothing looked amiss.

She turned to examine Professor Snape more closely and decided two things. That was definitely the real Snape, and he was decidedly not imprisoned.

She turned to Wendy, confident that the ditz was unaware of her real desires.

"Who?" She asked.

Wendy replied by handing her the latest copy of, ick, Witch Weekly. For once, the cover image actually interested her.

Harry Potter Arrested for a Crime He is Incapable of Committing

by Rita Skeeter.

I do not usually come to the rescue of any old teenager who contacts me through a solicitor well after dark with expectations of making the morning paper, but last night I made an exception when Harry Potter found himself in Ministry holding cells for a most ridiculous crime. You see, late last night Harry Potter went on a shopping trip in preparation for his upcoming second trial as a Triwizard Champion, and in the process, he did his duty as a wizard by following the letter of the law.

He confunded an elderly Muggle woman who was a bit too nosy about his obvious oddities—even by wizarding standards—and for this, he was arrested.

You heard that right. Harry Potter was arrested for practicing proper Muggle repellent protocols as specified in the charter of Individual Responsibilities in Maintaining the Statute of Secrecy. The charges? Two counts of underage magic and one count of truancy. The problem? Harry Potter is an adult and so is not capable of committing either of these crimes.

Many of you may be confused by that revelation, as I'm sure your mental calendars also say that 1994 minus 1980 equals 14, and thus Harry Potter should be 14 years old, solidly a minor.

To clear up this confusion I think it best to share Harry's own words.

"I was under the impression that I was emancipated around the time I was forced to enter a deadly tournament exclusively for adults against my will. And not only was my entrance and legal right to enter contracts as an adult confirmed by my Headmaster and Guardian, Albus Dumbledore, but by my Head of House, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports Ludo Bagman, former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Bartemius Crouch, the Headmaster and Headmistress of Durmstrang and Beuaxbatons respectively and, most important of all, the Minister of goddamn Magic!"

Harry is, of course, correct. His status as an adult was legally affirmed through verbal contract by all of the above parties mentioned, though only Dumbledore and Fudge were necessary to make it binding. The presence of the other mentioned parties served as legally binding witnesses. That's without even mentioning the contract with the Goblet of Fire itself.

Unfortunately for the Ministry of Magic, charges have already been filed and, despite what many more pessimistic readers might think, charges for underage use of magic and breaking the statute of secrecy cannot just be brushed under the rug once they are filed for they are not filed with the British Ministry of Magic, but with the International Confederacy of Wizards, making every single case an international incident. And so the British ministry has no choice but to take this all the way to trial, where they will surely lose.

"At which time I will have a case to sue for wrongful imprisonment, knowingly filing false charges against me and for misappropriation of law-enforcement resources with a pinch of abuse of international law, AND interfering with a Triwizard Champion in his capacity as a champion," Said the man of the hour.

All in all, I haven't seen such an easily avoidable international incident like this since...well since the first task of the Triwizard tournament. And the choosing of the champions before that. And the Quidditch World Cup fiasco before that. And the escape of Sirius Black from Hogwarts before that. Honestly, the entirety of the Fudge administration has been one humiliation for Magical Britain after another. But at least in the case of young Harry being forced to participate in this tournament against his will, some justice will be seen against the Ministry of Magic. Thankfully for the Fudge administration, Harry isn't a particularly vengeful individual and likely won't wage all-out war and pursue all legal rectification for the crimes against him.

"Normally you'd be correct," Said Harry. "But it seems to me that not a single hour of law enforcement time has been devoted to finding out who put my name in that goblet. Combine this with the complete refusal to even try and track down a very alive Peter Pettigrew, a similar refusal to give my innocent godfather a trial, and a whole year of suffering an army of dementors hell-bent on sucking out MY soul in particular, I'm not feeling particularly charitable."

I think it's safe to say, the Fudge administration has a reckoning coming. Its name is Harry Potter, and he has an exclusive contract deal with yours truly to ensure you get every blow of it as soon as he deals them.

Arriane had to put the paper down and rub her temples, mirroring the seemingly permanent state of half the faculty.

What an un-BELIEVABLE asshole. But a very forward-thinking one. How did a parseltongue celebrity with such a cunning and vindictive nature fail to get sorted into Slytherin? Her eyes drifted down the table to the fourth years where a certain blonde fruit was making a raucous laughing about the article as if it were a loss to Potter and knew her answer.

She couldn't wait to see Lucius' future failed attempt to turn this to his advantage, or at least Harry's disadvantage.

"But who is this Peter guy anyways? His name sounds familiar?" Said Wendy as she took her copy of witch weekly back.

"I'm more curious about this godfather of his. You guys ever hear about Potter having a godfather?" Said Abernathy, the other seventh-year prefect.

Good question. Warranted investigation.

"Excuse me," Arriane told her peers as she left the breakfast table in search of the owlery.

How disappointed she was to discover it bereft of any owls.

Harry glowered at the ceiling of his cell.

Normally the boredom of his solitude would inspire such a glower, but the previous night's conversation with Rita kept echoing in his mind. You see, they had a little extra bit of an interview after the official interview was over, one she swore was in confidence. He hadn't believed her at the time and had hoped it would be in those mornings paper along with everything else, but—miracle of miracles—she had kept her word and her silence.

Who had put his name in the goblet?

Such a simple question, one he would have expected to be part of the interview itself, but for some reason she wanted such rank speculation to remain between the two of them, and boy did they speculate.

He had answered truthfully, citing the two former death eaters and several dozen children of Death Eaters in the castle, but her counter suggestions had given him so much to stew over.

The obvious suggestion that an older fangirl could have put his name in to see him in action was a possibility he couldn't believe he'd overlooked. There were several girls in the seventh year with prodigious enough skills to trick the goblet, and several girls in his own age group with the skill to trick the age line, though he wasn't sure if either Sue or Hermione could hoodwink the goblet into thinking there was a fourth school. With Hermione, at least, he knew not to doubt that she could find a way.

Then there were the judges.

Learning that Ludo was betting everything on him paired with his consistent attempts at aiding him in the tasks brought no small amount of suspicion, and Dumbledore wanting to use the tournament as a way to train him up for the upcoming war—Rita was shockingly astute in knowing what was coming down the pipe—made sense logically but was so out of character for the Headmaster that Harry had to throw the possibility away outright.

Her words still sent chills down his spine.

"I am no moron, Potter. I am a reporter. The whispers of his survival and the strange happenings in Albania date back all the way to his fall. I am more well informed than any besides you and Dumbledore himself on what has been happening in Hogwarts these last three years. I knew about Peter and Sirius before you did. His coming draws closer and I can only pray that I'm wrong about how close it already is. I have researched it all very thoroughly. His forces and his enemies are gathering. The Goblin war machines have begun to churn in the bowels of their tunnels. The centaurs are making inroads with wizards they think are trustworthy and are testing their skill and mettle to make alliances, but I suggest caution in making such an alliance. Everyone knows most of these things in their heart, but are either too afraid to say anything, or in my case, too smart."

That woman scared him. Something must have happened recently to change her tone towards him, and he could only guess that this thing was him. Was she picking her side in the coming conflict? And was she really picking him over Dumbledore, the Ministry, the ICW, and Voldemort? He didn't know whether to be honored or offended.

So far she had proven a more powerful and helpful ally than any other. Because she had given him the name of the most likely suspect.

"Barty Crouch," He let the name roll off his tongue.

How had nobody thought it pertinent to inform him that the man in charge of organizing this tournament was the man who wrongly imprisoned his godfather without a trial? That the man also had a Death Eater for a son and was even more ruthless in destroying him than any other Death Eater was also rather frightening. As one of the five judges, and thus one of the five people with the greatest access to the Goblet, he was already on the top of the list of suspects next to the headmasters and Ludo. But now? Now he had a motive to rival the former Death Eater Karkaroff, both of them tying for first place now.

But where did Moody fit into all of this? He'd seen on the map that the two spent an inordinate amount of time together in the DADA office.

He had come to very much like the new teacher, his teaching was already outstripping Lupin. Shame he might be an enemy. He needed to get in contact with Sirius and Remus, they knew Moody personally from their days in the first war. If Dumbledore's friend was a traitor, or was being used, they would have some insight. But first, he had to win this trial.

The side chambers for the emergency meeting of the International Confederacy of Wizards were all an uproar in pre-debate debate.

All of the old ones—men of Dumbledore's age and power—from across the planet were gathered, as they did every weekend, to debate policies and judge the rare trials that were only for them to overlook, like the rare threat to the statute of secrecy. That today's rare trial was for underage use of magic case, usually handled by local ministries of magic, was something of an insult to most of them. That it was for Harry Potter, a young man whom many of them had received rather insulting manuals on killing dragons recently, was sending waves of vindictive arguments for preemptively naming him guilty.

This was all exceptionally amusing to Grigory Efimovich Rasputin.

"But if we convict and expel him what reaction would the Goblet's contract have?" Asked Elizabeth Johnson the third, the eldest witch in the entire ICW, save for Madame Flamel herself.

It was a good question. And the real reason the issue was being brought before them.

The Triwizard Tournament was an international event greenlighted and ran, officially, by them. Though they had made the severe mistake of handing off the running thereof to the local British ministry, it was a Mistake they were fast remedying.

"I do not believe he would suffer the consequences of the contract as he is not the one who will be breaking it, but us," Said Alzaban of Liberia. "I did not have much time to research, but I recall a witch in a previous tournament being removed through ICW action."

"That was due to the pregnancy clause," Countered Nicholas. "A champion getting pregnant or getting somebody else pregnant is one of the few escape clauses. As such, no consequences from the Goblet were faced by the champion nor anybody else involved."

Indeed. It was an escape clause they did not advertise, as many a female in such competitions or military service who learned of it, abused it.

"Then we are safe to convict him without worry," Concluded the Mediwitch and representative of Belgium, Edith Cavell, who had a bit of a soft spot for the horrors of WW1 and was one of the few Squibs in their ranks.

She was one of many who had grown to hate the beautiful, talented young man from Britain. Grigory on the other hand? He would vote innocent even if he turned out to be a baby killer. He was just too entertaining. Unlike Cavell, who would likely convict him even if he turned out to be as much of a saint as...well, as much of a saint as her!

"And what say you, Lich?" Asked the representative from Taiwan, Bao Li. "Does convicting the young man for such a non-crime jive well with your Greater Good?"

She was speaking to him of course, a brave front when in a room of people who gave the undead Russian such a wide berth. A faux bravery he doubted she would display if Albus were in their side chamber.

"I was never a sycophant nor believer of Sir Grindelwald's ideology," Grigory said truthfully. "I joined his side just for the fun of it. And though I was saddened that Mister Riddle's rampage didn't get to the point of world war so I could join in such fun again, I do not hold the boy in poor regard for it. I will wait to see the evidence and judge him thusly."

Okay. That last part was a lie, and they knew it based on the scowls on their faces. That or they just found his existence as distasteful as everybody else. Yup. Probably the first half of his statement that earned him those looks. But fuck em. Save for Nicholas and his wife in the other room he expected to outlive all of them. Well, not outLIVE per se.

And besides. He was growing more hopeful by the day that the Potter heir would prove to be the entertaining Dark Lord successor that they had all speculated he could be on that fateful Halloween night thirteen years ago.

The bell rang, producing a watery sound like a tuning fork in a lake. It was a rather calming sound to indicate that they all ought to migrate into the main chamber for the day's proceedings.

The few dozen Old Ones in their side chamber marched forward, Grigory remaining in the back to avoid any unnecessary conflict with the others. And to make them uncomfortable by being behind them. That was a plus.

And so, the over two hundred witches and wizards filed into the grand chamber, many of them more ancient than him, but few as knowledgeable. One by one they took their seats and got comfortable, with Albus climbing up to the head podium to conduct their business.

In a few short moments, the accused would be dragged in here. In a few moments, he would finally see Harry Potter himself in the flesh.

Come forth, boy. Come, and entertain me.

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