Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

by angela bretagne

This is my take on the seventh book, based on clues scattered all through the other six books. I can't wait for the real book to come out to see if I'm close. ASL please.

4. Chapter 4: The Unexpected Ally

Disclaimer: The following characters, settings and referenced events are, and always will be, the property of J K Rowling.

– CHAPTER FOUR –

The Unexpected Ally

Harry woke next morning to find several presents perched on the end of his bed. He looked at them with a hollow feeling in his stomach. He wasn't certain he wanted to open them, in case he was sent to Azkaban later that day; it would only make it that much harder to bear, knowing what he was missing.

'Happy birthday.' Ron's voice sounded quite the opposite of his sentiment.

Harry looked over at him and saw his own anxiety reflected in Ron's eyes.

Ron glanced at the presents. 'Aren't you going to open them?'

Harry shrugged. 'Not yet. I thought I might save them for later, after … you know. I'd enjoy them more then.'

'Not feeling very happy?' a voice asked from the doorway.

Ron swore. 'Don't you ever knock?' he wanted to know as he pulled the blanket up to his chin.

'Oh, stop being silly, Ron.' Hermione didn't even glance at him; her attention was focused on Harry.

'Why are you so bright?' asked Harry as she sat down on the edge of his bed.

'Why are you so glum?' countered Hermione. 'After all, it is your birthday – your seventeenth birthday. You're a man now.'

'Yeah, so I can easily be sent to Azkaban.'

'They don't have a case against you. You didn't do anything; my wand will prove that.'

'And you think that will stop them? Hermione,' Harry looked beseechingly at her, 'you've never been before the Wizengamot –'

'Dad said it was supposed to be a small hearing, like last …' Ron's voice faded away.

Harry raised his brows at him. 'Like last time? It was supposed to be a small hearing before Madam Bones, in her office. But it ended up being before the entire Wizengamot; even Dumbledore commented on it. And they changed the time without telling me.'

'But being before the Wizengamot ended up being a good thing though, didn't it?' Hermione pointed out. 'After all, they voted quite resoundingly in your favour.'

Harry sighed. 'Yeah, but that was with Fudge in charge. Scrimgeour seems to have a few more brains. And he's got double reason to hate me – not only have I made the Ministry look bad because they spent a year trying to discredit me and pretend Voldemort wasn't back, but I keep turning down Scrimgeour's requests to support them.' He glowered darkly. 'You watch! I bet you it'll be before select members of the Wizengamot, ones Scrimgeour knows will support him; it'll be quick, they won't give us a chance to defend ourselves or present evidence,' (he looked pointedly at Hermione), 'then it's a show of hands and off to Azkaban.'

Ron paled noticeably.

Hermione shook her head, refusing to believe Harry's prediction. 'But wizarding law works the same as Muggle law – you're innocent until proven guilty, and they have no proof!' She stressed every word emphatically.

Harry was starting to feel angry. Why wouldn't she see how dangerous the situation was? At least Ron seemed to appreciate their predicament. 'Do you really think the law will make any difference to Scrimgeour? He's Minister; he's answerable to no one!' And tossing aside the bedcovers, he grabbed his dressing gown and stormed out of the room.

Breakfast was a very stilted affair. Harry was feeling both angry and terrified and wanted to yell at Mrs Weasley to stop fussing over him, trying to make him eat. Hermione seemed to be having little trouble tucking into breakfast, but Ron looked like he was trying to chew carpet. Harry couldn't remember starting a worse birthday, and he'd had plenty of pretty bad ones.

Finally, Mr Weasley stood up. Ron jumped and glanced at his watch. 'It's only five thirty!' he squeaked.

'Harry wants to get there in plenty of time,' Mr Weasley explained. 'And after the switch they pulled last time, I'm inclined to agree that it would be a good idea.'

'Will you two stop panicking,' scolded Hermione. 'I checked our notices and the hearing is before the Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, not the Wizengamot, and they can't switch without giving us two months notice in writing – it says so in the Charter of Magical Law, section 27, subsection 5.'

Mr Weasley looked slightly taken aback by Hermione's knowledge of wizarding law. Ron seemed to be buoyed by the news that it wouldn't be a complicated affair, but Harry still wasn't convinced.

'Was this law in place two years ago?'

'Of course!' replied Hermione. 'Why?'

'Because I wasn't given any notice that the time, place or procedure had been changed, let alone two months in writing.'

Hermione waved her hand dismissively. 'I'm telling you, Harry; you're worrying for nothing. All we have to do is give the department head my wand to examine,' ('Break in two, more like,' muttered Harry), 'and they'll let you go. And they'll then have to let the rest of us go because we're being charged as your accessories; so if you haven't committed any crime, we can't have helped you do it,' she finished.

'Who is head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement now that Madam Bones is dead?' asked Harry, as Mr Weasley indicated for them to form a line in front of the fireplace.

Mr Weasley cleared his throat. 'Dolores Umbridge.'

Hermione finally looked worried.

x

The trip from Fred and George's shop (Fred had unlocked the door for them, yawning so widely, his jaw cracked) gave Harry a glimpse of London between worlds: one half was only just starting to wake up, and the other half was turning in for the night. On the Underground, late-night clubbers were heading home, smelling of cigarette smoke and cocktails and wearing bright, glittering clothes which revealed more flesh than they covered, then when they rode the escalator up to the street, their nostrils were assaulted by the smell of freshly brewed coffee and baking bread.

When they got down into the Ministry, the main thing which Harry noticed was the Fountain of the Brethren which Dumbledore and Voldemort had done a good job trying to destroy at the end of Harry's fifth year. The wizard's head, which Dumbledore had used as a Portkey to send Harry back to Hogwarts the night Sirius died, was missing, no doubt buried in a cupboard in McGonagall's office. The witch was still smiling like a beauty contestant, but the effect was ruined somewhat by the fact that half her chin was missing. She also wobbled dangerously at the waist; her left side and hip had been blasted away. The centaur was pressing a very cracked behind against her to steady her, its chipped tail raised in a pose that made Harry crack a nervous laugh. He could think of several centaurs who would love to adopt exactly that attitude with the wizarding community.

The other two statues were busily holding down what was left of the wizard; the house-elf, grinning maliciously, had even gone so far as to ram a wand up the wizard's –

Harry heard Hermione try to stifle a horrified gasp as she laid eyes on the house-elf.

'Yes,' Mr Weasley sounded embarrassed, 'they didn't intend for that to happen. When they tried to repair the fountain, the statues just lined up stiffly. So they cast spells to make them act more naturally and that happened. They can't even get the water to stop.'

And water was indeed gushing forcefully from every hole on the statues, many of the streams overshooting the outer edge of the fountain bed. An army of mops was dashing about haphazardly, reminding Harry of a cartoon he had seen on television when he was little.

Mr Weasley led them in a wide arc around the fountain to the elevators. When they reached level two (Department of Magical Law Enforcement) where Mr Weasley worked, Harry was surprised that he didn't get out.

'Er, isn't this your floor, Mr Weasley?'

Mr Weasley frowned at Harry. 'Didn't Molly tell you? I was promoted. I'm up on the first floor now. And a good thing too; we needed far more space. I've even got windows.' And he grinned smugly at Harry.

As Mr Weasley held the elevator door for them at the first floor, Harry hesitated.

'Get a move on, Harry.' Hermione pushed him from behind. Trotting after Mr Weasley, Harry said, 'I was kind of hoping to camp outside Umbridge's office.'

'Not just yet.' Mr Weasley ushered them through a pair of doors halfway down the corridor on which gleamed the words Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects.

Harry's jaw dropped; he couldn't help it. The office before him was definitely an improvement on the broom cupboard-sized one Mr Weasley had occupied on the second floor. It was probably even larger than it looked because approximately three quarters of it was filled with cupboards and shelves overflowing with boxes, bottles, tins and rolls of parchment. To one side, crammed between a pile of parchment marked Spell to Defend against Foreign Occupation of the Mind and a large jar of yellow slime, Harry saw the Metamorph medals Mr Weasley had told Mrs Weasley about the night Dumbledore had taken Harry to the Burrow.

The remainder of the office was occupied by four desks, with plenty of space between them. Pulling out a chair at the desk in front of a gleaming stained-glass window of what looked like Merlin, Mr Weasley sat down, indicating for the others to pull up chairs from the other desks.

Harry looked around appreciatively. 'Nice office, Mr Weasley. I especially like the window.'

'It's a bit cramped, isn't it?' Hermione stared interestedly at the confiscated objects.

'Believe me, Hermione,' said Harry. 'There's no way you could get all this into Mr Weasley's old office. It was smaller than a broom cupboard.'

Hermione looked dubious at this claim, but when both Ron and his dad nodded agreement, she looked unsure.

'Why would they put you in such a tiny space? Couldn't they have cast a spell to make the inside larger?'

Mr Weasley shook his head. 'Fudge give someone who meddles in Muggle items more than half the space they need? I thought you understood how Ministry politics worked. But,' he clapped his hand together cheerfully, 'that was when Fudge was in charge. Things have definitely changed since Scrimgeour took over. Take this office, for instance. There's no way Fudge would have allowed part of his floor to be occupied by a department which worked at something other than licking his boots.'

He grinned at Hermione's shocked face. 'It's all right, Hermione; I've been watching the games played here for a very long time. I know exactly what can be achieved if you're in it for yourself rather than your job. This floor is a classic example: the stained-glass windows, the carpet (feather-soft, heated and self-cleaning), even the size of the floor itself – twice as large as it was when Millicent Bagnold was Minister. All done while Fudge was in office. Oh, he liked his luxury, did Fudge. Rumour even has it that there used to be a Jacuzzi where we're sitting.'

'All paid for by Mr Malfoy?' Harry speculated.

'A fair chunk of it, at least. Good thing he's in Azkaban – he can't demand a refund.' Mr Weasley looked up as a memo flapped in front of his face. It seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

Harry tensed. Had they changed the time and were letting them know too late again?

Mr Weasley noticed Harry's reaction. 'It's OK, just a note from Tonks downstairs. Umbridge has arrived.'

Harry jumped up and was halfway to the door when Mr Weasley spoke. 'You'll be wanting these,' he said.

Turning, Harry saw him pull an Invisibility Cloak, a wand and a sheet of parchment from under his desk.

'Moody's' he explained, as Harry took the Cloak. 'And this –' he held up the parchment, '- is an XPress memo. Whisper to it what you want it to say, then touch it with a wand. It will vanish and appear at the person it's addressed to. Use Lupin's wand since you don't have yours. Oh, and Tonks will meet you at the lift.' And with a final grin, he returned his attention to the scrolls on his desk.

When the lift reached the second floor, Tonks barely had a toe through the doorway when she suddenly clapped herself on the forehead.

'Problem, Tonks?' asked a tall wizard with a greying moustache as he pushed past her to get on the elevator. (Harry pressed back against the wall to avoid being bumped.)

'Yes, Paddy. I forgot those files Robards wanted to check. I'll catch you up, OK?' And waving a hand at him, she marched away from the elevator.

Harry took the hint and followed, weaving between cubicles and around people. Every so often, Tonks would stop to have a quick word with colleagues, giving Harry a chance to catch up.

Then they left the cubicled area and entered a long corridor on the opposite side to where Mr Weasley's office had been. Tonks looked up and down the corridor, quietly murmured, 'Last door on the left,' then hurried back the way they had come.

Harry had only gone halfway along the corridor, however, when Umbridge came out of her office. Fortunately, the corridor was wide enough that he was able to avoid being brushed by her as she waddled past on her short legs. Umbridge was smiling, but there was nothing sickly-sweet about it now; she looked more like the proverbial cat licking its cream-covered face.

With a feeling of foreboding, Harry hurried after her as carefully as he could.

As they got on the elevator, he supposed he wasn't really all that surprised when her stubby, ring-covered fingers pressed the button for the ninth floor, nor that she turned from the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries (Harry's heart tightened at the sight of the door), to go down the stairs leading to the old courtrooms.

He hesitated for a moment as she entered Courtroom Ten; should he send the memo now, or find out exactly what they were facing? Just as she was about to pull the door to, he quickly squeezed through the gap.

Looking around, Harry forced down the emotions threatening to surface. He definitely did not like this room. It was empty except for Umbridge, Scrimgeour, who was already seated at the judges' bench where Fudge had sat, and Percy, getting things set up at his seat – quills, scrolls and ink bottles.

Much as he didn't want to go anywhere near it, Harry decided next to the chained chair in the centre of the room would probably be the safest place to park himself so he wouldn't be bumped at all.

'Ah, good, Dolores, you're here!' Scrimgeour greeted Umbridge as she slowly stumped up the stairs to Madam Bones's old seat.

'Yes, Minister. I've got an owl in my office, waiting to take the changed details to Weasley's house.' (Harry's eyes narrowed.) 'It has instructions not to leave for another hour. When will the others be here?'

'They should arrive within the half hour. Then we can begin and finally force Potter into a position where he will have to co-operate with the Ministry or suffer the consequences.'

Harry's insides did a somersault. Half an hour? Sitting down behind the chained chair, making certain the Cloak was draped completely over him, he quickly cast Muffliato to the chamber in general, then began whispering to the XPress memo.

Half an hour later, the jury had increase by twelve. Harry didn't know any of them, but from what he could hear of their comments and conversations, they were very pro-Scrimgeour, anti-him. He started to panic – should he remove Moody's Cloak and reveal himself or try to sneak out of the courtroom and back up to Mr Weasley's office?

He had just decided he should go for help and started moving towards the door, wondering how he was going to get through unnoticed, when it flew open with a bang. Everyone stopped muttering and Scrimgeour looked puzzled. Mr Weasley was holding the door open, making a lot of fuss telling the others to hurry up, they didn't have all day.

Pushing past him, Harry felt a slip of paper pressed into his hand, which told him to leave the wand and Cloak in the corridor and pretend he was straggling after the others. Complying, he re-entered the courtroom and bumped straight into Hermione, who had stopped just inside the door, staring around at the room, stunned.

'Good luck, you lot,' said Mr Weasley cheerily, then marched off along the corridor.

Scrimgeour was on his feet, glaring down at them with a thunderous expression on his face. 'WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?' he roared.

'What is the meaning of what?' asked Harry coolly, glancing around at the Wizengamot. They were, for the most part, getting over the initial shock of the defendants arriving, and were slowly resuming their smug stances, no doubt believing the hearing would be a whitewash, regardless of whether Harry and the others were present or not.

And Harry was inclined to agree with them. He really couldn't see it making much difference to the outcome, when every one of Scrimgeour's buddies would find them all guilty on principle.

Scrimgeour stood on the judge's balcony, his face changing from red to purple. 'WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY BURSTING IN HERE LIKE THIS?'

Harry held his gaze. 'Oh, I'm sorry, aren't we supposed to be present at our own hearing?' Scrimgeour flushed. 'I mean, that was the idea wasn't it? Don't notify us of any change for another,' (he glanced at his watch) 'half an hour.' He glanced up to see Umbridge had leapt to her feet.

'How – how –,'

'How did I know you were planning to steamroll us?' Harry gave a disgusted grunt. Hermione's eyes widened, no doubt thinking he was going too far. He probably was, but he didn't care any more. 'After the stunt the Ministry tried to pull last time you had me in here, do you really think I wasn't going to make sure it didn't happen again?'

Umbridge spluttered. 'You were spying on me?'

'No,' Harry glared at her. 'I just know you and the lengths you'll go to to get me out of the way. Do your cronies know you were the one who ordered those Dementors to come after me and my cousin two years ago? Or that you tried to use the Cruciatus curse on me to get me to tell you what I was doing when I thought Sirius had been kidnapped by Vol-' (there was a collective shudder through the room) '-demort's' (Harry stressed the syllables) 'gang? Or that you were using illegal instruments of torture on students?' And he held up his right fist, showing the scarred words I must not tell lies.

The members seated around the room shifted nervously, as if trying to put as much distance as possible between Umbridge and themselves.

Umbridge adopted her sickly-sweet smile again. 'And where is the evidence to support your claims?'

'It's all here.' Harry tapped his head. 'Fetch a Pensieve! I'll prove every horrible thing you ever did or said to me.'

Scrimgeour looked from Harry to Umbridge and back, then cleared his throat. 'Madam Umbridge is not the one on trial here. You are. And it is time we commenced proceedings.' He nodded at Percy, who had been staring at Harry with a disgusted look but had yet to put quill to parchment.

'Before everyone is seated, Minister?' A pleasant voice to Harry's right made him jump.

Looking around, he saw a line of serious-looking witches and wizards, all wearing plum-coloured robes with a silver W, file into the courtroom and start to make their way up to their seats in the stands. The witch who had spoken glanced at each of Scrimgeour's jury as if committing their faces to memory. As she sat beside Scrimgeour in Umbridge's old seat, she looked down at Harry and gave him the tiniest of winks.

Scrimgeour gazed around at the new arrivals, a most dissatisfied expression on his face. They outnumbered his selected allies by three to one, and every one of them was returning his look most coolly.

The spokeswitch for the group broke the silence. 'What's the matter, Minister? You look almost frightened to see us. But surely it should not be surprising for the entire Wizengamot to be present at a hearing before the Wizengamot, even if said hearing was scheduled to be heard on the second floor before one arbitrator?' She inclined her head at Umbridge. 'Or perhaps your reaction is because you realised you had forgotten to notify us. After all, had we not, due to a fortunate accident, already been here at the Ministry, you would have risked a mistrial, and that would have been most unlucky for justice; and we all know how important justice is to the Ministry, especially with regards to such an important case as this.' And she again gave Harry, Ron and Hermione a tiny wink.

Both Scrimgeour and Umbridge looked as though the balcony had collapsed beneath them. It took several minutes before Scrimgeour began to recover, during which the atmosphere was colder than an iceberg. When he did finally resume his seat, he looked as though Umbridge's saucer of cream had hit him squarely in the face.

'Yes, very well.' His voice was muffled by the sound of much parchment rustling. He cleared his throat nervously. 'Very well, the accused being present –'

'Not all of the accused are present, Minister.' The witch's pleasant voice once more stopped Scrimgeour in his tracks. 'Was not a Mrs Arabella Figg also to stand trial alongside those already here?'

Scrimgeour's look would have stopped a troll. He opened his mouth, no doubt to dismiss the witch's concerns, but was stopped by the sound of the courtroom door opening again. Everyone looked across to see Mrs Figg shuffling into the room, complete with batty look and carpet slippers. As she reached Harry, Ron and Hermione, she stared down at her feet, as if she was too afraid to look up at the court.

Scrimgeour and Umbridge exchanged a quick glance. Umbridge whispered something to Scrimgeour and Harry's stomach tightened as she once more began to grin triumphantly, as if she still had a card up her sleeve which nobody else knew about.

Scrimgeour cleared his throat yet again. 'Very well. All the accused being present,' (he looked pointed at the witch on his right), 'let us begin.'

Percy raised his quill, ready; Harry noticed Ron glare disgustedly at him.

Scrimgeour's voice boomed through the courtroom. 'Hearing of the thirty-first of July, before the Committee of Magical Law, into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, the International Statute of Secrecy, and the Agreement for the Management of Good Wizard-Muggle Relations, by Harry James Potter, resident of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey; and aided by Ronald Phineus Weasley, resident of The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Derbyshire, Hermione Kathleen Granger, resident of number twenty-seven, Rabbit Avenue, Bloomsbury, Devon, and Arabella Doreen Figg, resident of number sixteen, Wisteria Walk, Little Whinging, Surrey.

'Interrogators: Rufus Felix Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.' Scrimgeour cleared his throat again. 'Patricia Clara Capsworth, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister.' (Harry glanced uncertainly at the auburn-haired witch to Scrimgeour's right; her pale blue eyes twinkled down at him.) 'Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley.' Scrimgeour looked around at those he had named.

His gaze finally fell upon Harry, and did not waver as he continued. 'You, Harry James Potter, do hereby stand accused of illicitly employing Freezing Charms upon Muggles, and then applying unlawful curses upon the aforementioned Muggles. You also stand accused of encouraging the co-operation of your co-offenders –' (Hermione gasped audibly), '– who stand accused of aiding and abetting you in your law-breaking. You have greatly undermined Wizard/Muggle relations, and risked the exposure of our world by ensuring your curses continue to be evident throughout the Muggle community within which your victims habitually mingle. You have received numerous warnings about flagrant disregard for the laws protecting our world, and have previously appeared before this Court with regard to matters concerning these breaches. Yet you continue to risk both your freedom and that of your co-offenders in order to engage in Muggle-baiting practices employed most commonly by Dark wizards supporting He Who Must Not Be Named.

'You have heard the charges against you. How do you plead?' And he glared fixedly at Harry.

Harry felt like his head was spinning. Dark wizards supporting He Who Must Not Be Named? And what happened to innocent until proven guilty? He had noticed, and he was certain Hermione had as well, that Scrimgeour had stopped using the words 'stand accused' halfway through his speech, and spoken as if Harry had already been tried and found guilty of everything he had ever done which was not under the immediate direction of the Ministry.

Harry stared up at Scrimgeour. 'Did you just call me a Death Eater?' he asked, his voice as cold as he could make it.

A ripple seemed to shudder throughout the Wizengamot. Scrimgeour's expression darkened. 'You are not here to ask questions, but to answer them. Now,' he glared down at Harry, 'how do you plead?'

'To what? Being a Death Eater?' Harry felt Hermione grip his shoulder warningly. 'Not guilty. And here's the proof!' Pulling his left sleeve up, he held his arm aloft for all present to see. 'See. No Dark Mark Protean Charm!'

Scrimgeour looked very affronted by Harry's actions. 'How do you plead to the other charges?'

'Which ones?' Harry countered. 'The ones I supposedly–' ('Allegedly!' muttered Hermione) ' – allegedly committed, or the ones you just tried to convince the court I've already been found guilty of?' He shrugged his shoulder out of Hermione's grip. 'You're as pathetic as Fudge was. He didn't like me either, all because I told the truth and made his perfect little world not so perfect anymore. And now, because I won't be your poster boy and support you in your efforts to throw innocent people into Azkaban, you lot are once again trying to get me out of the way for something I didn't do!'

'So is that your answer – not guilty?' Scrimgeour still glowered at them.

'Of course he's not guilty!' Hermione spoke up before Harry could reply. All heads turned towards her. 'We could stand here all day arguing this back and forth, but there's really a much faster and more accurate way of settling this matter once and for all.'

Harry's insides squirmed. She wasn't going to suggest Veritaserum, was she?

'Test Harry's wand! That will prove he didn't perform those curses.' Hermione crossed her arms and glared at Umbridge, who had moved forwards on the bench to gaze down at her.

Scrimgeour frowned. Harry could almost hear the thoughts racing through his mind. Taking Hermione up on her offer would be the most effective way of proving Harry's guilt, but why would she play so willingly into the Ministry's hands?

Umbridge, meanwhile, was licking her wide toadlike lips with a fat stubby tongue. 'If Miss Granger is happy to provide us with incriminating evidence, Minister,' she simpered, 'I think we should accept the offer.' She gazed triumphantly between Hermione and Harry.

Scrimgeour still looked uncertain, but as most of the Wizengamot were now gazing at him expectantly, he seemed to think he didn't have much choice. 'Oh, very well,' he growled. 'Let's get this over with. Weasley?'

Percy jumped up and ran along the front bench, removing Harry's wand from his robes. He went to hand it to Scrimgeour, but Patricia Capsworth calmly reached across and took the wand just as the Minister was about to take it from Percy.

Both Scrimgeour and Umbridge looked affronted.

'I think you will find that, as Head of Magical Law Enforcement, I am the one who needs to perform the test on Potter's wand.' There was no longer any simpering tone in Umbridge's voice.

'And if you read the Wizarding Charter of Rights, you will find that, under Right to Impartial Judgement, paragraph eighty-three, such tests must be performed by an impartial judge.' replied Madam Capsworth.

Umbridge stood up, which, in Harry's opinion, didn't make her appear more imposing as she was now shorter than she had been while seated. 'Are you implying that I am not impartial?' she fairly screeched at her opponent.

'I don't need to,' Capsworth's voice was still pleasant, but Harry could sense a touch of something much less tolerant underneath. 'You just proved you lack of impartiality to all present,' she waved her hand at the court, 'by reacting as you did just now. If you were truly impartial, you would have had no objections to my performing the test, instead of demonstrating your fear that you would lose the chance to sabotage the test in order to inflict more punishment upon a young man whom you have already spent several months tormenting simply because you are afraid of anything like yourself – not pure-bred.'

Harry saw Ron's jaw drop.

'Not pure-bred?' Umbridge's voice was starting to hurt Harry's ears. 'I'll have you know both my parents were wizards and witches –'

'That's odd,' Capsworth interrupted her. 'I could have sworn one of them was a toad.'

Harry and Ron had to work very hard not to join in the laughter which filled the chamber. Only a few members of the Wizengamot weren't laughing, both Scrimgeour and Percy looked scandalised, and Umbridge was sputtering incoherently, she was so angry. Hermione looked slightly afraid, as if she felt their chances of a fair trial had just been destroyed, and Mrs Figg looked even battier than before.

Madam Capsworth's eyes twinkled down at Harry, Ron, Hermione and Mrs Figg as she reached into her robes and removed her own wand. Ignoring the ruckus surrounding her, she calmly placed the tip of her wand against Harry's. Harry saw her lips form the words Priori Incantatum (the noise was too loud to hear her), and suddenly a great stream of smoky water gushed from the point where the wands touched. Scrimgeour raised his hands reflexively as the laughter suddenly stopped.

Capsworth continued to mutter Priori Incantatum. A series of red sparks shot from Harry's wand, followed by a loud bang which made most of the Wizengamot jump. Next, two muffled cries issued forth, then a loud thump as though something heavy had fallen. When two smoky brooms suddenly exploded forth from the wand, Madam Capsworth was sufficiently startled to break the connection.

Both Scrimgeour and Umbridge looked like they didn't know what to make of the evidence. Umbridge began to rummage through the scrolls in front of her. Madam Capsworth lazily flicked her wand in Umbridge's direction and a scroll zipped past Scrimgeour's nose to land in her hand.

'I believe this is the one you were looking for,' she commented as she unrolled the parchment. 'Yes, just as I thought – no record of any of those spells being performed in Surrey.'

'Then he must have performed them since he left Surrey,' blustered Scrimgeour, 'to trick us into believing he's innocent.'

Madam Capsworth looked along the bench at Percy. 'Why did you have Mr Potter's wand?'

Percy threw his out chest importantly. 'The Minister gave it to me for safe keeping the night Harry was arrested. He felt Harry wasn't to be trusted with a wand after what he had just done.'

Both Harry and Hermione grabbed Ron's arms to hold him back.

Capsworth's brow creased. 'And you have kept this wand upon you since then?'

'Yes.'

'Did you perform any spells with it whilst it was in your keeping?'

'Most certainly not!' Percy replied indignantly.

Capsworth turned towards Scrimgeour and Umbridge. 'So the last spells performed by this wand should be these.' She waved the scroll of parchment. 'Yet we have traced back several spells through Mr Potter's wand and there is no sign of them. I would say that would mean Mr Potter did not perform these spells. Wouldn't you agree?' she asked, with a bemused expression.

Umbridge was fit to burst. 'But those curses were performed at Potter's house. We have witnesses to prove it. Bring them in!' she almost screamed at Percy, who immediately jumped up and raced over to the door in the corner leading to the room where Harry and the others had stayed the night they were arrested.

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged puzzled glances – what witnesses?

But before they could panic any further, Harry heard a familiar voice abusing Percy.

'Get your filthy hands off me, you freak!' shouted Vernon Dursley. There was something wrong with his voice though; it was slightly slurred, almost like he was trying to talk underwater or with a full mouth.

Looking across to the corner, Harry saw a very large blob squeeze through the door, hindered slightly by its enormous bulk, followed quickly by a tall, thin woman who was pushing Dudley back whilst looking over her shoulder towards Percy. Aunt Petunia was trying to reassure Dudley.

'Don't panic Diddums, Daddy won't let the nasty freaks hurt you –' She stopped as she caught sight of the rows of witches and wizards peering down at them; all of whom seemed less than pleased to be referred to as 'freaks'.

There was a loud bang, and Uncle Vernon hurried into the room, followed closely by Percy, who was rubbing a crisp white handkerchief against a cut on his cheek.

Scrimgeour's eyes widened at this sight. 'What did you do to my Junior Secretary, Mr Dursley?'

Uncle Vernon spun around, looking for the person who had addressed him, and spotted Harry.

'YOU!' he roared, spraying a mouthful of foam over Aunt Petunia. Both Uncle Vernon and Dudley advanced on Harry.

'Stop!' shouted Hermione, pointing her wand at them. This stopped the Dursleys as suddenly as a brick wall. Dudley gave a brief yelp and scurried back to his mother; Vernon's piggy little eyes were fixed on the wand as if it was a deadly snake.

Harry stared at the Dursleys, astonished. He had known what Hermione had done, but seeing it somehow made it even funnier. Uncle Vernon was sputtering pink frothy foam every time he tried to speak and Aunt Petunia looked distinctly frazzled in a very dirty apron, a dark streak across her nose. Dudley was the best sight of all. Smoke was puffing from his ears, his skin was hanging a little off his very bruised arms, he winced every time he moved, as though his muscles were very sore, and when he opened his mouth to say something to Harry, large coloured bubbles issued forth. As each of them popped, Dudley's voice filled the room saying such things as 'Harry Potter is the greatest wizard I have ever known' and 'I really love my cousin, Harry Potter'.

Ron was holding on to the chained chair for support, he was laughing so hard. Hermione merely regarded all three Dursleys with a very smug expression.

'My, my, we have been naughty, haven't we?' she said.

Her words drew the attention of both Umbridge and Capsworth. Scrimgeour was staring at Uncle Vernon, still waiting for a reply to his question about Percy.

Umbridge's slack lips widened. 'Let the record show Miss Granger just admitted to the guilt of all of the offenders.'

Hermione's attention was snatched abruptly away from the Dursleys. 'How did I just admit any guilt?' she asked in an indignant tone.

'You just said "We have been naughty".'

Hermione's jaw dropped. 'What? I was talking about them!' She pointed to the Dursleys. 'The only way they could look like that is if they haven't been behaving properly, so yes, they've been naughty.'

Scrimgeour had given up on Uncle Vernon and was now focusing on Hermione. 'And what do you know about the victims' present condition?'

Harry and Ron exchanged panicked looks. Hermione was about to get herself into a lot of trouble. They tried to grab hold of her but she shook them off, stepping forwards to remain out of their reach.

Hermione stared defiantly up at Scrimgeour and Umbridge. 'I know everything about the Dursleys' condition because I performed those spells.'

The silence which greeted this admission rang for a full minute before Umbridge's smug voice broke it. 'Oh ho! So little Miss I-disagree-with-the-documented-opinions-of-Ministry-approved-authors is still defying her betters. Or were you practising defensive spells?' She leered down at Hermione with a sickening grin.

Before Hermione could answer, however, Uncle Vernon and Dudley launched themselves across the room and flattened both Hermione and Harry, who had realised in the second that they were airborne just what they were going to do, and tried to push Hermione out of the way. There was a tangle of hair and fists, though none of Dudley's blows hurt at all, and Harry had trouble breathing (both from Uncle Vernon's weight and a faceful of foam); then there were three loud bangs and something wooden snapped. The Dursleys were suddenly standing very erect, hands by their sides, piggy eyes darting around in panic, and Harry, Ron and Hermione found themselves floating in midair, arms and legs splayed out as if they were doing star jumps.

Scrimgeour was standing, his face almost as purple as Uncle Vernon's, pointing his wand at the three of them.

'I will NOT tolerate such unseemly behaviour in my court. And as for you!' He rounded on Uncle Vernon (Aunt Petunia gave a muffled cry). 'You were brought here to help this court convict these offenders, not to attack them. Here I am trying to mend Wizard-Muggle relations, and you, sir, are not helping one bit.'

Uncle Vernon tried to say something, but it was lost in yet another mouthful of foam.

Scrimgeour glanced around at the court at large. 'Can't we do something about that foam?'

'Hem, hem,' Umbridge's stupid cough sounded very out of place. Harry felt a sense of foreboding. 'We haven't as yet been able to find a counter-jinx. You'll need to ask Miss I-think-I'm-so-much-cleverer-than-the-Minister how to reverse the effects of her curses. She'll only be able to tell you, though; since she has admitted to breaking several Wizarding laws, she is no longer permitted to own a wand.' And she held up two short pieces of timber, something shiny glittering as it poked out one of the broken ends.

Hermione gasped and twisted slightly, as if she wanted to check her pockets, but couldn't reach them because of the way she was spread-eagled.

Madam Capsworth was regarding Umbridge with a curious expression. 'Is there something personal going on here which the rest of us don't know about, Dolores? Because that would be most improper,' she said as Umbridge dragged her smug look away from Hermione. 'After all, it clearly states in the Charter of Wizarding Rights that witches and wizards who have a personal history with accused appearing before the Wizengamot are not permitted to sit in judgement at their hearings. Isn't that so, Minister?' She cast an amused eye at Scrimgeour, who did not look happy to be dragged into the debate.

He huffed and muttered something indistinguishable.

Capsworth waved her wand and a large, dusty book landed with a very loud thump on the bench before her. Its pages turned as if in a breeze until …

'Yes, here it is: section 832, subsection 312, paragraph 26. "In order to avoid a mistrial and the risk of release of dangerous witches and/or wizards who are known to pose a serious threat to the safety of the wizarding community at large, such dangerous witches and/or wizards are to be tried before only those Wizengamot members who have no previous personal history with the aforementioned dangerous witches and/or wizards.

"Wizengamot members who have a previous personal history with dangerous witches and/or wizards appearing before the Wizengamot, are those who have a blood or familial relationship with said dangerous witches and/or wizards; who have employed or been in the employ of said dangerous witches and/or wizards; who have had business or financial dealings with said dangerous witches and/or wizards; or who have had said dangerous witches and/or wizards engage them in dispute, either physical, verbal or written, other than matters before the Wizengamot.

"With respect to this last, said dangerous witches and/or wizards have the right to present the facts surrounding any such dispute to the full Wizengamot, and also have the right to request that the Wizengamot decides if compromised Wizengamot members should remain sitting in judgement of any matters, current or future, brought before the Wizengamot concerning said dangerous witches and/or wizards."'

Umbridge had something akin to fear in her bulging eyes.

As Harry, Ron and Hermione drifted slowly to the floor, Hermione's eyes flashed triumphantly. Ron looked extremely confused.

Madam Capsworth glanced down at Harry and Hermione. 'Do you wish to exercise your right under section 832, subsection –?'

'Yes!' Harry and Hermione both shouted immediately.

Scrimgeour finally recovered. 'You are Undersecretary to the Minister, Capsworth; you're supposed to be supporting me, no helping law breakers to get away with murder.'

Madam Capsworth blinked, donned a false surprised look, and made a show of consulting her notes. 'I don't see any charges here relating to murder, Minister. Are you certain you're not confusing this hearing with a previous one; for example, the trial which convicted Sirius Black?'

'What trial?' asked Scrimgeour before he could stop himself.

Capsworth's expression darkened. 'Exactly.'

Scrimgeour looked highly affronted. 'But the fact still remains – you are supposed to be supporting me!' he snapped, seemingly unaware that every one of the Wizengamot members who had arrived with Madam Capsworth were regarding him with utter distaste.

'I was under the impression that I held this position on the Wizengamot as a separate voice of authority, not an echo of any other members, or do I need to read you the laws governing my position.' The largest book Harry had ever seen landed on top of the Wizarding Charter of Rights with a bang, and the front bench tilted alarmingly under its weight. Umbridge slid into Scrimgeour's back, making him grab the front of the next row to stop them from falling, as he muttered something which sounded like, 'That won't be necessary.'

Harry could only just see Madam Capsworth's eyes over the top of the tome, but he could have sworn they were twinkling.

As she sent the gigantic book sliding along the bench to Percy (who had great difficulty lowering it to the floor), she regarded Harry and Hermione again.

'Now, you wished to exercise your rights to a trial devoid of any members with whom you have a history-'

'No!' Umbridge screamed, clutching at Scrimgeour's arm. 'Sack her, Rufus, you have every right to, she's not doing what you want and that's what her job is about. If she's not Undersecretary, she can't sit in my, I mean, that chair.'

Capsworth frowned at her. 'You know, for someone who's supposed to be Head of Magical Law Enforcement, you don't seem to know the law very well. Once appointed to a level Gamma position, I can only be removed by either dying, resigning, or being voted out by a secret ballot of all other Gamma members.'

'Ha!' Umbridge was physically shaking Scrimgeour now. 'Do it, Rufus; you know you can find a much better candidate than her.' (Percy sat even straighter.)

Scrimgeour tried to shake Umbridge off as he regarded Capsworth. Then he pulled out his wand and stabbed it into the air. Several tiny gold spots sparkled in the air like a silent firework had gone off, then vanished one by one. Scrimgeour leant upon the bench, staring expectantly at the air where the sparks had been.

Harry moved closer to Ron and Hermione. 'What's a Gamma member?' he whispered.

'Heads of Department,' replied Ron.

'So what did Scrimgeour just do?'

'Sent off requests for the vote to oust Capsworth, I'm guessing,' said Hermione. Ron nodded beside her.

Harry glanced at the front bench. 'If she gets fired, I bet Percy wouldn't mind a promotion.'

'The git!' muttered Ron, glowering at his brother, but their discussion was halted by the appearance of several coloured glittering dots which flashed around the courtroom until they came to rest, hovering before the front bench, and forming the words She stays.

Percy looked disappointed, but Umbridge still hadn't given up hope.

'Sack her from the Wizengamot, go on; Cornelius got rid of Dumbledore –'

'Why, thank you; that's the highest compliment anyone has ever paid me,' Capsworth smiled charmingly at Umbridge's confused face, 'saying I'm in the same class as Albus Dumbledore.' (Harry snorted, and tried to cover it with a sneeze.) 'But Cornelius Fudge didn't remove Albus Dumbledore from the Wizengamot, he was voted out. So, shall we have a show of hands?' And again, she addressed Scrimgeour.

'What?' Scrimgeour extracted himself from Umbridge's grip and glanced around the courtroom as if counting heads. He didn't sound very confident as he muttered to the space beyond Capsworth, 'Oh, very well,' but Umbridge was grinning wickedly again as Scrimgeour addressed the Wizengamot.

'All those in favour of Patricia Clara Capsworth being demoted from the Wizengamot, please raise your hands.'

Predictably every person who had been present before Ron and Hermione arrived, with the exception of Percy, voted against Capsworth.

'… eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen.' Madam Capsworth glanced at Percy, who was glaring at the members who hadn't voted yet, his lips pressed very thin. 'Make a record of that please, Mr Weasley.'

Percy started, then hurriedly scratched down the number.

Scrimgeour did his best not to make eye contact with anybody as he almost muttered, 'And those in favour of her remaining on the bench.'

Harry's eyes scanned the room, trying to count the mass of hands pointing towards the high ceiling; they certainly outnumbered Scrimgeour's mates, but by how much?

'Thirty-four, Mr Weasley,' Madam Capsworth smiled across at Percy.

'That won't be necessary…' Scrimgeour started to say, but once again, Madam Capsworth's pleasant voice cut in.

'Oh, but it is necessary, Minister; after all, you wouldn't want our visitors –' (she indicated the Dursleys) 'to leave here with the mistaken belief that we do not know how to manage our affairs – whether judicial, political or social – properly, reasonably, fairly, and following correct procedure, would you?'

Scrimgeour jumped as if he had been burned; he had apparently forgotten about the Dursleys. All three of them were huddled together, Uncle Vernon and Dudley still as stiff as statues, all three pairs of eyes darting from side to side, terrified of what might next be inflicted upon them. They seemed to have forgotten that they were boiling mad at Harry, but Harry knew that wouldn't last.

'Well,' continued Madam Capsworth, 'now that the issue of my position has been dealt with, let us proceed to the next step of ensuring Mr Potter and his friends are properly and legally tried for the crimes they have been charged with.'

Harry noticed Ron swallow. He guessed Ron was probably wishing that their trial would be forgotten, with the argument between Scrimgeour, Umbridge and Capsworth distracting everyone, but Harry knew it wouldn't be that easy. However, he wasn't as nervous as he had been. Hermione had forced the Wizengamot to realise that his wand, at least, had not been responsible for the Dursleys' conditions, Scrimgeour's allies no longer held the majority, and Harry felt that, somehow, there had been a shift of command with the vote in favour of Madam Capsworth. If she was correct about those clauses, neither Scrimgeour nor Umbridge could remain here to pass sentence upon them.

'You can't kick us out of here,' Umbridge screamed. 'Not if you don't want a mistrial. Both the Minister and Head of Magical Law Enforcement must be present, or –'

'Nobody intends to stop you being present,' Madam Capsworth's voice was pleasant once more. 'But whether or not you get to have any influence over these proceedings is yet to be determined, and if Miss Granger is able to enlighten us at all, I personally would love to hear it.'

'So would I,' muttered Scrimgeour beside her. Umbridge threw him a very dirty look.

'But first,' Capsworth continued, 'let's everybody get more comfortable.' She flicked her wand. A long desk, perfect for resting elbows on, appeared in front of Harry, Ron and Hermione. Behind them stood three top-grade leather office chairs. As Harry pulled his up to the desk and sat down, he noticed Mrs Figg glance nervously up at the Wizengamot before settling herself into a very comfy-looking armchair, reminiscent of the ones Dumbledore had conjured at Harry's trial two years ago.

To the other side, a very long sofa had appeared, with ample space to accommodate both Uncle Vernon and Dudley's extremely wide backsides, and still seat Aunt Petunia comfortably. All three Dursleys were eyeing it with a mixture of fear, revulsion and longing.

Madam Capsworth addressed them. 'It doesn't bite, you know, you are most welcome to sit down. After all, I'm certain your muscles,' (she looked pointedly at Uncle Vernon and Dudley) 'are getting rather stiff. However, the sofa will exist only as long as you behave yourselves. If any of you once again tries to abuse or attack any person present here, the sofa will vanish and all three of you will be confined to that.' She pointed to the chained chair. 'And I assure you, that chair does bite.'

Uncle Vernon's piggy eyes darted from the chained chair to the sofa and back, a pained expression in them. Harry knew he would never willingly sit on anything which was connected to magic but, as Madam Capsworth had pointed out, they were probably getting very stiff.

Aunt Petunia tentatively reached out to pat Uncle Vernon's shoulder. 'It would probably be best if we accept their hospitality, Vernon; after all, it's only until the trial is over. Then we can go home, and never be bothered by them again. You can both show them that normal people do know how to behave properly … and the sofa does look comfortable.' She glanced at the chained chair, then whispered, 'Please, Vernon?' so softly Harry saw, rather than heard, what she said.

Looking up at Madam Capsworth, Aunt Petunia nodded slightly. Instantly, both Uncle Vernon and Dudley slumped against each other. Dudley opened his mouth, but his father quickly covered it with his large hand.

'Your mother is right, Dudders,' he said, foam-free for the first time that day. 'You know how to act like a gentleman. Look at this as a chance to teach them –' (he jerked his head towards the judge's balcony), 'how proper people behave.' And he grinned painfully at his son as Aunt Petunia nodded encouragingly.

Dudley still looked like he would rather take Harry apart in the most gruesome way possible, but both his parents gripped his arms and forcefully steered him over to the sofa, and didn't release hold even after all three of them were seated.

Madam Capsworth's clear voice rang through the courtroom. 'Pre-hearing of the thirty-first of July, into pre-existing associations under the Charter of Wizarding Rights, between Rufus Felix Scrimgeour, Dolores Jane Umbridge, Harry James Potter, and Hermione Kathleen Granger.'

She gazed down at Hermione. 'I think we'll hear from Miss Granger first. Could you please explain to this Court why Dolores Umbridge doesn't seem to like you very much?'

Hermione glanced from Umbridge back to Madam Capsworth, then explained about Umbridge's attempts to stop them learning Defence properly when she was at Hogwarts, from refusing to let them do anything except read Defensive Magical Theory to her abuse of Harry to getting Fudge to introduce the Education Decrees, giving her steadily more power and paving the way for Fudge to take control of Hogwarts.

'Why would Cornelius want to take over at Hogwarts?' asked Scrimgeour.

'It all basically came down to his love of power,' Hermione explained. 'When Fudge first became Minister, he wasn't really experienced or trained enough for the job, because it was actually Mr Crouch who had been groomed to take over from Millicent Bagnold, so Fudge was always running to Professor Dumbledore for help. But over time, he became more comfortable with his new power, and managed to convince himself that he was the one who was coming up with the good ideas and stuff, and started to do everything he could to hold onto his office.'

'Helped immensely by Lucius Malfoy,' Harry added.

Capsworth leant forwards a little more. 'How so?'

'Gold!' Hermione, Harry and Ron all replied, together.

'Cornelius Fudge was accepting bribes from a Death Eater?'

'We're not entirely certain that he ever really believed Mr Malfoy was a real Death Eater,' said Hermione. 'After all, Malfoy had been let off because he managed to convince the Ministry that he had been under the Imperius Curse, then, to stop Fudge listening to Dumbledore, he threw heaps of gold at him.

'And Fudge became very accustomed to the luxury. Just compare his office to what it was like before he became Minister.'

Several Wizengamot members began nodding and muttering amongst themselves. Umbridge glared at them, clearly not happy to see any of them agreeing with what Hermione said.

Rufus Scrimgeour straightened up a little. 'I think our Accounts department would have noticed if luxury items were appearing with no accompanying bills. Books do need to balance, you know.' He looked rather pleased with himself for noticing this.

'The books would have balanced. If you examine them closely, I wouldn't mind betting it's all under Donations to Charities Overseen by the Minister or something to that effect,' countered Hermione.

Scrimgeour was shaking his head, his thick mane almost hiding his face. 'I would definitely have been informed if there were any charities I was supposed to be presiding over.'

'Then perhaps you need to check with Accounts to find out how Lucius Malfoy's money was explained.' Mrs Figg spoke up for the first time since she arrived.

Harry, Ron and Hermione all turned to look across at her; Harry was surprised to see a slight gleam in her eye.

'Why do I get the feeling you know something the rest of us don't?' Hermione muttered across at her.

'Why don't you ask who's in charge of the Accounts department?' Mrs Figg muttered back out of the corner of her mouth, her eyes fixed on Umbridge.

Harry and Hermione looked at Ron, who shrugged. 'I don't thing Dad's ever had anything to do with anybody from Accounts,' he said, glancing over at Percy, who was frowning at the four of them.

Hermione looked slightly uncertain as she returned her gaze to the balcony. 'Er … Madam Capsworth … who's in charge of Accounts?'

'I think the question you meant to ask, Miss Granger,' said Madam Capsworth, 'was not who is in charge of Accounts, but who was in charge of Accounts when Fudge was in office.'

There was no mistaking it this time – Umbridge definitely had a look of fear in her eyes. Harry's curiosity increased.

'And the answer to that question,' Capsworth continued, 'is Markus Yaxley.'

Yaxley? Harry's jaw dropped. 'You're joking!'

Madam Capsworth shook her head sadly.

Harry stared, stunned, at Scrimgeour, who was doing an excellent job avoiding his gaze. 'You knew, didn't you,' he growled softly. 'You knew Fudge had a Death Eater managing the Ministry's money and you've never investigated what he got up to, have you?'

'Nobody knew he was a Death Eater,' said Scrimgeour gruffly.

'Oh, come on,' said Harry disgustedly. 'You were Head of the Auror Office; you had to have at least suspected.'

'We are not here to discuss the running of the Ministry, especially not with three teenagers. The matter under investigation is your actions of July –'

'You will find, if you examine your memory a little closer, Minister,' Madam Capsworth's pleasant voice once again cut Scrimgeour off, 'that this is the pre-hearing before this Court turns its attentions to any July actions, and we are trying to determine whether both yourself and Dolores Umbridge will be permitted to pass any judgement on said July actions.

'Now, to return to the matter at hand.' She glanced at Hermione. 'Why was Fudge trying to take over at Hogwarts?'

'It wasn't so much him wanting to take over at Hogwarts, as trying to stop Dumbledore from taking over here. He seemed to think Dumbledore was teaching us to be an army he could use against Fudge, so he changed the law so Umbridge could get the Defence job and stop us from learning how to defend ourselves.'

Madam Capsworth looked slightly confused. 'Even though the Dark side was rising again?'

'Especially because of that,' stated Ron, earning another glare from his brother as Harry nodded. 'Fudge worked really hard to stop everybody learning the truth about …' His voice petered off.

'Voldemort!' both Harry and Hermione replied forcefully, to another wave of shudders.

'Yeah … him …' muttered Ron as his ears turned red.

Harry picked up the thread.

'Fudge leaned really hard on the Prophet not to print anything about Voldemort's return, and make me and Dumbledore look like loonies. Even after the night Sirius died, and the Ministry had no choice but to believe the truth, Fudge never apologised – not to me at any rate. He had given Umbridge free license to abuse me, after she had tried to get me sent to Azkaban for stopping her Dementors from attacking me and my cousin,' (Aunt Petunia gasped over on the sofa) 'and he not only never said sorry, but he then wanted me to tell everybody what a great job he was doing when he was about to be kicked out of office.'

Harry glared up at the Minister. 'And Scrimgeour has been trying, ever since he became Minister, to get me to endorse what he's doing, too.

'And now he's abusing his position; instead of ensuring the Ministry is being run efficiently and doing everything possible to protect the law-abiding wizarding community, round up and properly punish real Death Eaters, and catch Voldemort, he's channelling resources into having me watched to try to find out what I might be up to.'

Scrimgeour looked affronted. 'The Ministry doesn't have anyone watching you –'

'That's not what Percy said!' Both Ron and Hermione's voices joined Harry's. Harry felt a perverse pleasure seeing Percy try to disappear into his notes beneath Scrimgeour's withering glare.

'The only time you lot seem to tell the truth is when you accidentally let something slip.' Harry was almost shouting now. 'Remember what you said last Christmas – that I should feel it was my duty to be used? Well, if being used means I'm not going to be able to properly get on with things, just so you lot can look like you are doing what needs to be down, even when you're not, then you had better get used to the idea that Voldemort will always be around.'

'We are doing what has to be done.' Scrimgeour was on his feet. 'You have no idea how difficult it is going up against the Dark side. I was Head of the Auror office; I know how tough a fight it is, and how exhilarating it feels, even if only for a brief time, when you finally manage to catch one of those –'

'Even when one of those turns out not to be a Death Eater? You still haven't released Stan Shunpike yet, have you?' Harry's heart pounded loudly in his chest.

'YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT'S LIKE!' Scrimgeour fairly shouted as he jabbed a finger at Harry. 'GOING UP AGAINST THE DARK SIDE. THE DEATH EATERS ARE BAD ENOUGH, AND AS FOR HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED –'

'I've faced Voldemort himself five times, so I would say I do have an idea what it's like.' Harry spoke quietly, but his voice rang clearly through the silence which followed Scrimgeour's outburst.

Capsworth was sitting as straight as a Sensory Sensor. 'What did you mean before by "her Dementors"?' Her voice was slightly horrified.

'Umbridge told me that she had ordered those Dementors to Little Whingeing to take care of me; that everybody was bleating about how I needed to be silenced, but she was the only one who actually did something about it.'

Scrimgeour started to puff up importantly, but Capsworth held up a hand to stop him.

'Was she trying to destroy your soul, or get you convicted by the Wizengamot for using magic in a Muggle area?'

Harry shrugged. 'I don't know; either would have achieved her goal.'

'And that would have been the end of Harry Potter. Just as Voldemort returned.' Capsworth slumped back against her seat, her expression unreadable.

For more than a minute, stunned silence followed this pronouncement.

Finally, Madam Capsworth visibly pulled herself together and addressed the chamber.

'I think we have heard sufficient testimony to determine whether or not either the Minister or the Head of Magical Law Enforcement should be permitted to sit in judgement at any trials concerning Harry James Potter or Hermione Kathleen Granger.

'Those who believe there is too much personal animosity between the accused and Minister Scrimgeour and Madam Umbridge to permit a fair trial of the accused, please raise your hands.'

Ron's jaw dropped when most of the Wizengamot, even several of Scrimgeour's mates, voted in favour of Harry and Hermione.

'And those who believe the Minister and Madam Umbridge are capable of passing honest and unprejudiced judgements at any matters concerning the accused, please raise your hands.'

It was very easy to count the vote this time. Only seven hands were pointing towards the high ceiling, including both Scrimgeour and Umbridge's. Harry found this a little surprising; he would have thought, since the vote was about them, that they would be excluded from the result. Hermione opened her mouth, probably to voice just such a concern, but Capsworth silenced her with a slight shake of her head, her expression saying that it didn't matter to the outcome.

She gazed over at Percy, whose expression was as stunned as both Scrimgeour and Umbridge's. 'Kindly record the result, Mr Weasley.' Percy glanced at Scrimgeour, who gave the briefest of nods, signalling for Percy to start scribbling, his hand shaking noticeably.

Once the scratching of Percy's quill stopped echoing through the courtroom, Madam Capsworth straightened the sheets of parchment in front of her. 'Right,' she said. 'Now we can get down to business.' She looked down at them.

'Hearing of the thirty-first of July, before the Committee of Magical Law, into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction and so forth and so forth. Part Two.'

He eyes twinkled as they gazed at Hermione. 'Miss Granger, you earlier gave testimony that you were the person responsible for the spells performed in Surrey two weeks ago, correct?'

'Yes.' Hermione returned her gaze unflinchingly.

'And what was your reason?'

'Revenge, of course!' Uncle Vernon sprayed foam again. 'That boy put her up to it, to pay us back for how we've treated him over the years.'

'And how have you treated Mr Potter over the years?' Madam Capsworth was now looking at Uncle Vernon with open interest.

'Er … well …' Uncle Vernon turned a sickly grey as he tried to pull his foot out of his mouth. 'We've given him a bed to sleep in, food in his stomach, clothes on his back, let him go to that school of his, and all without any thanks or financial reward. Most people wouldn't have done it; they'd have sent him straight to an orphanage. They wouldn't have put up with owls coming and going, flying cars, Marge on the ceiling, floating puddings or having their living room blown up. That boy has certainly been treated a lot better by us than he would have been anywhere else.'

Capsworth glanced back at Harry. 'Is that true?'

'Sort of.' Harry refused to look at the Dursleys. 'They did give me a bed – in the cupboard under the stairs, and food, but only the bare essentials; and clothes – after Dudley had grown too fat for them. And they let me go to Hogwarts only because they were too scared of Hagrid to stop me.'

'And what were these incidents Mr Dursley spoke of … you didn't blow up their living room, surely?'

'Oh, no.' Harry grinned. 'That was Mr Weasley.'

Scrimgeour blinked. 'Arthur?' Harry and Ron nodded.

Harry explained about the incident three years before. 'Mr Weasley was going to repair everything and clean up the room after we'd left but Uncle Vernon's manners weren't very friendly.'

'I'll have you know I have excellent manners,' Uncle Vernon sprayed. 'It's your lot who need lessons in manners –' He quailed under the Wizengamot's frosty expressions.

'That's why you keep spraying foam everywhere,' said Hermione.

Capsworth turned to her. 'Yes, these curses. Were they for revenge?'

'No.'

'Rubbish!'

'Mr Dursley, kindly sit down and be quiet or you will be forced to remain silent.' Capsworth's voice was still pleasant but her eyes shot sparks.

'So it was Muggle-baiting?' asked Scrimgeour.

'No.' Hermione blinked innocently up at the judge's balcony. 'I didn't curse them. I performed charms upon them, to encourage them to improve both themselves and their lives. To make them better people.'

'How so?' Capsworth was resting her chin in her hand.

Hermione explained about the Dursleys' less than perfect behaviour.

'So, to fix them, Mr Dursley will have to keep his temper under control or he'll get his mouth washed out with soap until he does say something nice. He'll also have to let his possessions wear out before he replaces them or both the old and new items will immediately break beyond repair and the cost of both taken from his bank account, converted to Galleons and donated to the Closed Ward at St Mungo's.'

Uncle Vernon looked like he wanted to blow up again but one nervous glance in Capsworth's direction had him trying to hunch down beside Dudley. Harry suppressed a grin as he imagined that, despite Uncle Vernon's abhorrence of all things magical, he was probably wishing he could turn invisible.

'Next, Mrs Dursley's behaviour, which resembles what Muggle psychologists call Obsessive/Compulsive Disorder,' (Aunt Petunia whimpered at the thought people might think her, in any way, mental.) 'can be reversed by cleaning the house once a day only. But once everything is clean – leave it alone. Otherwise, everything will just keep getting dirtier and dirtier until twenty-four hours after she stops.

'And, finally, we come to Dudley. This one was a really tough charm because he has so many faults and vices which need correcting.'

Ron sniggered.

'The amount of strain his obesity must be placing on his heart, he'll be lucky if he's not dead of a heart attack soon. So to improve his health, and therefore his chance of a longer life, he needs to improve his diet. Fresh fruits and vegetables, low-fat dairy products and high-fibre breads and cereals. Anything else, especially junk food, and he'll throw up for twenty-four hours. The same if he drinks alcohol. A single glass of red wine with dinner is permissible (once he turns eighteen), but binge drinking with his mates on a regular basis stops now.'

'Dudders doesn't drink with his mates!' Aunt Petunia jumped up.

'He's been doing it since he was fifteen,' Harry informed her. 'I really wish Muggles could use a Pensieve. I'd love to show you his memories of it.'

'But they can.'

'What?' Harry and Hermione both gaped up at Madam Capsworth.

'Muggles can use a Pensieve. They need someone to guide them every step of the way, but they can do it.' She quickly scribbled something on a scrap of parchment and passed it to Percy who, after a nod from Scrimgeour, quietly disappeared into the ante-chamber.

'So why the bubbles and smoke?' Capsworth prompted Hermione to continue her testimony.

Hermione dragged her gaze from the door Percy just disappeared through. 'The bubbles are to clean up his very foul mouth; basically, they reverse Dudley's sentiments. And the smoke shows that he has been smoking in the last twenty-four hours.'

Aunt Petunia looked like she was going to object again but a glance at Harry's face had her shrinking back into the sofa, uncertainty on her face.

'Any other improvements?' asked Madam Capsworth.

'Yes,' Hermione answered. 'If he tries to beat up on someone except in self-defence, especially someone half his age and size, he is the one who'll feel his punches and get the bruises.' She pointed to the fresh bruises which had blossomed over Dudley's arms since his attack on Harry and herself earlier.

'So is he allowed to do any physical exercise?'

'Oh, yes,' said Hermione cheerfully. Dudley winced. 'There's not much point eating healthily to lose weight if you don't tone the flab as well so, yes, he's allowed to get physical. Even boxing is OK, so long as it's only a punchball, and only as part of an exercise program full of variety. Not too much to begin with – his body won't be able to handle it – but nor is he allowed to do too little. If he does, he'll ache all over until he does start exercising. His body will let him know what it can manage. But no more couch potato. And, over time, he will become a healthy, trim, well-mannered young man whom his parents can truly and properly be proud of.'

Madam Capsworth gazed down at Hermione, a thoughtful expression on her face. 'Those would have to be the most unusual curses I've ever heard of. You're not actually inflicting any harm upon your victims, quite the opposite, in fact. You're trying to help them.'

'NOT INFLICTIN ANY HARM UPON US?' Uncle Vernon scooped up a handful of foam. 'What do you call this?'

'Incentive.' Hermione regarded him with a mixture of amusement and disappointment.

'And what's the counter-curse?' asked Scrimgeour.

'There isn't one.' (Umbridge blinked.) 'No witch or wizard can undo those spells. The only people who have the power to stop all of that –' she waved a hand in the Dursleys' direction, '– are the Dursleys themselves. If they live proper lives as decent people, they'll have no problems. But if they lapse at all, they'll be reminded that that sort of behaviour is not on.'

'And what about your Statute of Secrecy thingy?' Uncle Vernon glared at Hermione. 'You lot won't want people who are normal like us to find out about you,' he said, looking anything but normal with his lap full of pink foam and puffs of Dudley's smoke drifting across his face. 'If you keep us looking like this, it'll cause a lot of trouble for your lot.'

'And what about the trouble it will cause you?' asked Harry. 'If Muggles find out about the wizarding world because of your behaviour, they'll also discover the truth about your family – that both your wife and son are directly related to two of the most famous witches and wizards this century: me and my mum.'

'There's nothing wrong with our behaviour!' Uncle Vernon bellowed around yet another mouthful of foam but, despite their present reluctance to abide by Hermione's new rules, Harry felt certain that, with time and practice, they would behave properly all the time. And they would hate every second of it. He hid a secret grin. Revenge was indeed sweetest when served up cold.

'We shall see, shan't we, Mr Dursley.' Madam Capsworth looked like she was thoroughly enjoying the show.

Umbridge was still glaring down at them. 'So what were the spells which Potter did perform with that wand? There were several curses amongst that lot. So who were you cursing?' The bulging eyes turned to Harry.

'They were self-defence,' Harry raised a hand to stop Hermione stopping him from answering. As much as he didn't think it was any of the Ministry's business, he knew the matter wouldn't be dropped until they were satisfied they had all the answers. So, he decided to give them some. 'I performed them the night Dumbledore died, when I chased Snape and the other Death Eaters from the Astronomy Tower.'

'And what was with the water?' Scrimgeour frowned.

'I helped Hagrid put his hut out after one of the Death Eaters set fire to it.'

Umbridge sat up straighter. 'That half-breed cast a spell even though he's not allowed to perform magic?'

'No,' Harry tried to make his voice sound as cold as possible. 'I did Aguamenti, Hagrid used the rain barrels outside his hut.'

Umbridge still wasn't giving up.

'And what were you doing on top of the Astronomy Tower?'

'Dumbledore and I went to investigate why the Dark Mark was there.'

'But Dumbledore had previously been seen entering the Hog's Head Inn in Hogsmeade.'

Harry could feel Ron and Hermione watching him nervously. 'Yes.'

'Why?'

Harry glared up at Umbridge, hoping she would be fooled by the act. 'Fine! Dumbledore wanted to tell me about the Prophecy which was smashed the night Death Eaters managed to break into this place.'

That had everybody staring at him, stunned.

'You were with him?'

'Yes.'

'And he felt that you would be less likely to be overheard in a pub than at the school?' Umbridge clearly didn't think that was very clever of Dumbledore.'

'He didn't tell me in the Hog's Head,' Harry growled. 'We Apparated to the middle of a hurricane in the Pacific. That's why he was so weak when we got back. That storm was rough.'

'You Apparated, even though you hadn't passed your test at that point?' Scrimgeour looked like Fudge had the night he found out about Dumbledore's Army.

'Of course not!' said Harry, scandalised. 'Dumbledore took me, Side-Along.'

'And what were the details of the Prophecy?' Umbridge was starting to look like the cat had gotten a new serve of cream.

'Couldn't tell you,' said Harry. 'Dumbledore was Secret Keeper. I can't even tell Ron and Hermione.'

Both his friends played their parts well. 'Don't think we haven't tried to get it out of him,' said Ron as Hermione donned a very frustrated look.

Umbridge looked like she wanted to ask more questions but she broke off as Percy returned carrying a Pensieve which he placed on the desk in front of Harry, Ron and Hermione, astutely avoiding eye contact with any of them.

Madam Capsworth made her way down from the balcony and held Harry's wand out to him, her eyes twinkling.

'Do you know how to retrieve a memory?' she asked pleasantly.

'No,' Harry shook his head, 'but I've seen it done before.'

'Good, then you shouldn't have any trouble helping me.' She tightened her hold on her own wand. 'I'll remove the memories we shall examine, but I need you to guide me.'

'What memories do you want to check out?'

'Anything which you feel will back up what we've heard here today.'

Harry spent a few moments considering his choices. Since Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would be going into the Pensieve, it was the perfect chance for them to see, with their own eyes, what Dudley got up to behind their backs … the night he was attacked by those Dementors would be good … as well as random selections of drinking, smoking, bullying and vandalism.

The rest of the Wizengamot, including Scrimgeour and Umbridge, began to make their way down towards them. It looked like they would all be going into the Pensieve. Harry decided to also dredge up memories of the Dursleys' mistreatment of him over the years. Then, for good measure, he thought he would throw in Umbridge and the Dementors, Aunt Marge and Dobby, so everyone could see exactly what had brought about the Ministry's previous warnings.

Gripping his wand tightly, Harry glanced up at Madam Capsworth. 'I'm ready.'

'Good.' Her smile seemed so familiar. She flicked her wand towards the sofa. All three Dursleys (whimpering like babies) floated over to them. Madam Capsworth pressed her wand against Dudley's temple. Dudley tried to back away but couldn't.

'Press your wand against the same point.' Harry did as instructed.

'Now concentrate very hard on each memory, in turn.'

Harry tried to ignore the look of pure fascination lighting up Hermione's face as he focused on the memories which Dudley would be able to provide. Madam Capsworth pulled her wand away and several silvery strands stretched from Dudley's head until they broke off, dangling like a glittering tassel from the end of the wand. She shook them off into the Pensieve where they swirled formlessly.

Next, Madam Capsworth touched her wand to Harry's head and he brought his own up beside it. Concentrating hard, he watched with interest as several strands of memory were dragged from his head before also being added to the stone basin on the desk.

'After you.' Madam Capsworth grabbed both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's heads and, before they could do more than gasp, forced them headfirst into the Pensieve. As soon as their noses touched the surface of the basin's contents, they both disappeared.

'Mummy!' Dudley went to dive at them but pulled up suddenly, a forest of wands in his face.

Capsworth gave Harry a quick wink then bent down towards the swirling mass. The rest of the Wizengamot waited for Scrimgeour and Umbridge to dive into the Pensieve then, one by one, they also vanished into Harry's memories.

'What happens now?' Ron looked from Hermione to Harry.

'We wait,' said Harry, settling back into his chair.

'So, who's Madam Capsworth?' Hermione asked Ron.

He shrugged. 'Dunno, I've never heard Dad mention her. Whoever she is, I don't think Scrimgeour or Umbridge like her.' He grinned.

'Will you three keep it down?' hissed Mrs Figg.

'What? Scrimgeour and Umbridge can't hear us.' Ron protested.

'No,' replied Mrs Figg. 'But your brother can.'

Harry, Ron and Hermione all turned alarmed faces towards where Percy was sitting, busily writing. Had he just taken down what they said? Not wishing to give the Ministry more ammunition against them, they sank back into their chairs and clamped their mouths shut. They weren't game enough to even glance at each other. All they did was just sit there, staring silently at the desk, and waited.

And waited. Harry was starting to think he was maybe too heavy-handed with the material he had given Madam Capsworth when the Pensieve's contents splashed and, suddenly, countless numbers of people were landing in front of the desk, feet thumping slightly on the floor. The last to emerge from the Pensieve's depths was Madam Capsworth, dragging a very ruffled, very red-faced Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.

None of them said anything as they returned to their places in the rows of seats above the defendants but most of them, even several of Scrimgeour's allies, were glaring angrily at both Umbridge and the Dursleys. Once everyone was settled again, Madam Capsworth looked down at Harry.

'Did they really put you through all of that your whole life?'

'Since I went to live with them when I was one, yeah,' Harry nodded.

All of the Wizengamot, with the exception of Scrimgeour, Umbridge and Percy, were looking down at him with a mixture of pity and awe. Harry wished they wouldn't.

'Very well then.' Capsworth glanced around at her fellow adjudicators. 'Those in favour of clearing the defendants of all charges?'

As far as Harry could see, only three hands weren't in the air, confirmed by Percy's count.

'And those in favour of a conviction?'

It hardly seemed worth the trouble but Harry supposed they should do things properly. He could feel Ron shaking beside him. Unlike earlier, when his tremors had been caused by fear and nervousness, he now looked like he was struggling not to burst out cheering.

Finalising the proceedings, Madam Capsworth spoke the four most beautiful words in the world.

'Cleared of all charges.'

Mrs Figg burst into tears.

'I told you they didn't have a case against us,' said Hermione, her smile almost splitting her face in two.

'If I live to be a hundred, I never want to go through that again,' said Ron, his voice shaking as much as the rest of him. Harry didn't blame him; he was feeling pretty shaky himself, probably from relief.

'So, what happens now?' Hermione glanced up at the Wizengamot who were starting to get to their feet.

'We get out of here,' Harry told her, 'before Umbridge gets down here. Come on, we can go to Mr Weasley's office, tell him what happened.'

'Don't you want your memories back?' Madam Capsworth had covered the distance from her balcony to their desk more quickly than Harry would have thought possible and was returning Dudley's memories to his head as he tried to pull away, whimpering.

'What?' said Harry, startled. 'Oh … yeah … I forgot about them.' He gazed at the Pensieve. 'Er … how?'

'Like this.' Capsworth gently grasped Harry's hand and guided his wand to the stone basin. The swirling contents suddenly sped up until they resembled a whirlpool which then started to twist its way up the wand. Pulling slightly, she stretched it from the Pensieve to Harry's temple where it dimmed like a light burning down until it faded into nothing, the memories once more inside Harry's head.

'Coming?' Madam Capsworth's eyes twinkled at them. 'I'm sure Arthur would like an update.' The four defendants stood.

Without any further ado, she gave her wand a flick, making the Pensieve, desk and all of the chairs disappear, including the Dursleys sofa; the three Dursleys landed hard on the floor.

'What the –?' Uncle Vernon sprayed foam everywhere. Hermione looked slightly scandalised that Madam Capsworth could be so rough.

'After what they did to Harry, it's the least of what they deserve,' Capsworth explained to them, sparks flashing in her pale blue eyes for a brief moment. Her lips tightened as she watched Percy gather the witnesses up and escort them across to the door they had come in through.

'What will happen to them?' Harry found he couldn't feel any pity for the dilemma his relatives had suddenly found themselves in.

'They'll be returned to Surrey where they can think long and hard about the lives they have carved out for themselves and the new ones they are now faced with. Hopefully, they'll learn the lesson Miss Granger has tried to teach them,' Madam Capsworth sighed. She turned to Mrs Figg. 'Are you right to return home, Arabella?'

'Oh, yes,' Mrs Figg nodded enthusiastically. 'I have a return ticket for the train. I only hope Mr Tibbles hasn't clawed my curtains to ribbons. He does fret so.'

'I'll call by this evening and put everything right, if you like. It will also give me a chance to check that Harry's family aren't making life difficult for you now that they know you're connected to our world.' Her eyes twinkled.

'I'll expect you at six then,' said Mrs Figg as she rummaged in her handbag. 'I'll make sure I've got some buns ready for tea.' Finally finding what she was looking for, she handed Harry a small parcel wrapped in flowery paper. 'Happy birthday.'

Before Harry could do anything more than gape at her, surprised, she turned and shuffled her way out of the courtroom, her slippers making no sound on the wooden floor.

'So, are you coming, or not?' Madam Capsworth raised an eyebrow at Harry, Ron and Hermione. Most of the Wizengamot had left.

'Er, sure.' Harry was still staring after Mrs Figg. What was that about? Did Madam Capsworth and Mrs Figg know each other?

Before he could think about this information any further or even open his present, he noticed Scrimgeour and Umbridge starting to make their way down from the judges' balcony. Thinking it would be prudent to get out of there before they reached floor level, Harry let his feet scurry after Ron and Hermione, leaving Courtroom Ten behind, hopefully for the last time.