Chapter 7: Speaking and Hearing
A/n: EVERYONE READ THIS!! Ok, now that I have your attention, I've gotten several reviews (yay! Jump and squeal) that have asked me about Draco and when he'd be showing up. Don't worry, he'll be showing up in less than three chapters. I just had tons of stuff to set up and only a couple more things to go. Things will get interesting quickly after that. Tootles!
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The days following the twins' discovery of Serin were filled with a strange sort of joy for Harry. He was relieved, of course, that they did not think him evil for having a snake familiar, especially since being a parselmouth was usually considered a Dark Art, but it brought home the fact that he would not be able to hide Serin's existence forever.
Indeed, Hermione now knew about Serin as well, she had cornered him in the hallway and demanded to know about the snake that she knew was hiding in his hair. Harry had denied such a thing, but he hadn't been able to keep his hands from guiltily rising to his head.
Hermione had simply smiled sweetly and proceeded to tell him what she thought had happened; a rather remarkable story that was very nearly correct. After admitting to everything, and translating between Hermione and Serin quite a bit, Serin decided that she was "Fine, for a human." Which amused her to no end.
Fred and George had shown up then, and unceremoniously hauled Harry and Hermione into their room, telling them not to talk about such things in the hallway like a group of gossiping schoolgirls.
When Harry had removed Serin from his head and attempted to pass him to Hermione, she had clasped her hands firmly behind her back, stared into Harry's eyes, instead of looking at the proffered snake, and said in a strangled sort of tone that Serin was a very nice snake.
The twins, of course, caught on immediately that she didn't like snakes and began to pester her mercilessly about it. When Harry had reminded them that they hadn't touched Serin when they'd first met him either, they had simply laughed, and stated that that was different, they hadn't wanted to offend Harry. To prove themselves, they each took a turn holding Serin briefly before passing him back to Harry.
Having proven their bravery, the twins went back to pestering Hermione, who finally caved and reluctantly took the reptile into her hands.
Once she did, however, Hermione was surprised to discover that Serin's scales were smooth and dry, not at all slimy like she had thought they'd be, and when she stroked him, at Serin's request, she was rewarded with a remarkable reptilian purr of contentment. That was it.
Hermione was in love.
Fred and George had been immensely amused by this and had been unable to resist crowing, "Hermy's in love with Harry's snake!"
Harry and Hermione had blushed, and Serin was quickly returned to the forest of Harry's hair, where he curled up and napped contentedly, unconcerned about his Wizard's acute embarrassment.
Over all though, Hermione was rather taken with Serin and by the end, Harry was reasonably certain that he was not going to lose Hermione's friendship.
More days passed, and Harry became progressively more and more nervous as the date for his hearing drew closer.
The morning of dawned bright and cold, finding Harry already up and dressed, as per his nightly routine. The night before, Mrs. Black had decided she hated what the Ministry had tried to do to Harry (apparently, the Ministry was always wrong in her eyes), more than she hated Harry himself, and had told him as much. Putting actions to words, Mrs. Black pointed Harry to a secret alcove in the library that held old law books (and other things Harry had not been brave enough to inspect) and told him to read up on different cases, to solidify his defense.
Not having the heart to break their tentative nighttime truce, Harry had obediently done so, not mentioning that Hermione was already drilling him on what he should say and do.
It had been a good thing too, because Harry found a book detailing the exceptions in the laws that allowed for underage magic to be performed "in extremes of danger or threat of personal harm." To his delight, Harry even found a bit of parchment, slipped between the last pages of the final chapter, that contained the words of a spell that was designed to remove the detection spell placed on all minors' wands.
Harry grimaced as he remembered the dressing down Mrs. Black ha given him when he'd almost attempted the spell:
"You foolish boy! Don't you realize that to take off the restriction for under-age magic, you have to perform under-age magic?" Her tone had been that of sharpest diamond, contained the frigidity of glaciers, and conveyed her overwhelming disbelief and horror that this was a pureblood.
It hadn't been one of his smartest ideas.
After pondering the sun's position in the sky, Harry decided that it was late enough that he could go down to breakfast without raising questions about this sleeping habits.
As he approached the dining room door, Harry was met once again by the sound of bickering. Peeking his head through the doorway, Harry was unsurprised to discover that Fred, George, and Ron were the noisemakers.
After the split between Harry and Ron, Fred and George had taken it upon themselves to make Ron's life a living Hell, beginning one of the most subtle, and vicious, prank wars to date. Ron, outnumbered, found himself ill equipped to handle the twins' double ire, and was frequently on the losing end of their battles.
Now, it seemed, Ron had managed to turn the tables on Fred and George, feeding them two of their own prank items, resulting in Fred acquiring a large, round, and glowing red nose, and in George's ears growing to ten inches long, so that they gave his head a pinched-in appearance.
Harry could not restrain his grin as he sat down next to Ginny. Really, it wasn't his fault they reminded him of…
"So, Fred, how's Santa doing? The other reindeer treating you any better?" He quipped. When Hermione began to laugh, Harry turned to George and asked, "Seen any pink elephants lately?"
Their looks of confusion were made comical by their ridiculous appendages, which only heightened the amusement of the two Muggle-raised magic users. Harry began to laugh along with Hermione, which caused her to laugh all the harder. The two of them fed off of each other until they were red-faced and gasping, holding their sides where they hurt, doubling over the tabletop, as they giggled uncontrollably.
By the time the two of them had managed to rein in their mirth, Fred and George had returned to their usual appearance and the meal was progressing as normal. Or as normal as could be expected with two people having fits of hysterics in their midst.
Still chuckling, and trying desperately not to look at each other lest they go off again, Harry and Hermione slowly began to insert themselves into the conversations at the table.
"No pink or green," Ginny was saying, "That's all I'm asking for."
"What's this about pink and green?" Hermione interjected.
"That's just it, nothing about pink and green." Ginny turned to Hermione and looked pleadingly at her. "Tell them, Hermione. No pink or green."
"Erm, no pink or green." Hermione repeated dutifully.
"See? Hermione agrees with me." Ginny turned back to the twins with a flourish.
"That's only because she doesn't know what she's agreeing to." Fred waved his hand as if batting aside a troublesome fly. "Ginny doesn't want her Halloween costume to have the colors pink or green, but, honestly, how can you have a fairy without at least one of those colors?"
"Ginny can wear whatever colors she wants to the ball." Ron cut in from his position at the end of the table. "And she'll be pretty in them, too."
Harry couldn't help but wonder if Ron was defending Ginny because he honestly thought she should wear whatever she wanted, or if he was only doing it because it meant defying the twins.
"Thanks, Ron." Ginny said, blowing her brother a kiss.
Either way, it doesn't really matter. Harry decided as he absently loaded his plate with porridge. It's good to see that this split between me and him won't tear him away from his family. Harry glanced at Fred and George who were chattering as if Ron wasn't in the room. Maybe I can talk Fred and George into laying off him a bit, I don't want them to become enemies over this.
Suddenly, Ron began to cough, doubling over the table, one hand at his throat, the other braced on the table to keep his face from being introduced to his bowl of cereal.
"Ron!" Came the collective cry of concern from the table, and Harry was no exception.
George turned to Ron, who was sitting on his right side, and began to pound him vigorously on his back, eventually dislodging a raisin that had gotten lodged in the back of Ron's throat. "You okay, mate?"
Still gasping for air, and rubbing his throat with one hand, Ron gave George a feeble smile, which was returned.
Harry grinned, maybe he wouldn't have to talk to the twin's after all. Bringing his spoon to his lips, Harry took a bite of his porridge, causing Fred to grimace.
"How you eat that stuff, I will never understand."
Harry gave a one-shoulder shrug and took another bite. "I ate a lot of it when I was younger. It's cheap, thick, and lasts you a while."
"Meaning they didn't have to feed you as much."
Harry shrugged again and glanced around the room uncomfortably. This really wasn't something he wanted to be talking about. It was done, and in the past, why worry about it?
"Harry—" Hermione began.
"No." Harry cut her off quickly. "I don't want to talk about it. ("Surprise, surprise," mumbled Ron.) It's over, I'm here, not there, and honestly, I've got more important things to worry about."
"That's right, isn't your hearing today?" Ginny asked.
"Yes it is." Hermione said before Harry could steer the subject away. "But he'll be fine, he didn't do anything wrong. Well," She rushed on before Ron could say anything, "he did run from the Ministry, but they probably don't know that."
"How can you say that?" Ron cried, "They're the Ministry, of course they know about it. They just won't do anything because he's the bloody boy-who-lived!"
Harry ducked his head and focused on his porridge, hoping that he could keep his mouth full and closed.
"Ron, don't say such things." Hermione admonished without any real hope of having Ron listen.
"What are you going to be for the ball, Hermione?" Ginny asked, hoping to head off an argument between the rapidly disintegrating couple.
Bless you, Ginny. Harry thought, as he brought another spoonful of porridge to his mouth. Sliding the thick substance over his tongue, Harry felt a lump of something hard and bit down. Mrs. Weasley must not have boiled the oats long enough.
The lump of something, however, was not oats, as he discovered to his consternation. A strange tingling sensation went through his mouth, and Harry struggled with his suddenly numb tongue to spit the offending object out of his mouth. Harry stuck his tongue out and scraped the lump off, gasping in dismay when he discovered his tongue extending beyond its normal proportions to lie on the table.
"Wha ethow?" Harry's cry came out inarticulate, though his meaning was clear.
"Harry?"
Silence reigned on the table as everyone stared, dumbfounded, at the pink, slimy thing that extended from Harry's mouth and lay on the table in a rapidly spreading pool of saliva.
A muffled snort was heard, though Harry found he could not turn his head to see who it was, and was reduced to staring with wide, shocked eyes at Hermione who sat across the table from him. A second snort sounded into the silence of the room before the entire table, with the exception of the witch sitting across from him, burst into peals of laughter.
Harry rolled his eyes and valiantly attempted to gather up his tongue from where it lay uselessly on the table. It was horribly slippery, and in the end, he settled for rolling it up like a piece of old newspaper, which was rather uncomfortable, but it was better than having the taste of table on his tongue.
"Fred! George! Fix him!" Hermione cried over the din of laughing voices.
"No can do, Hermy." Fred laughed. "Harry will just have to wait it out like everyone else."
"He can't, you nitwit!" Hermione turned to her right and poked George in his ribs sharply with one long-nailed finger. "He's got a hearing to go to today, or have you forgotten? Your dad is coming here in less than half an hour to pick him up! He has to be able to talk at the hearing. Fix it!"
The twins and Ginny instantly sobered, though Ron could be heard cackling in the background.
"We can't, Hermione." Fred said, "It's timed, that's just the way these things go."
"No it isn't." She insisted. "I know I could figure out how to fix it, so you'll just have to."
"Gred?" George called. "What about the you-know-what?"
"I don't know." Fred frowned. "It hasn't been fully tested yet."
"What better time than now? At least it won't make things worse." George waved his hand in Harry's direction.
Harry let out a strangled sound, and waved one hand in the air as if to say 'can we hurry this up?'
"Sure, Forge. Why not?" Fred said with a shrug before exiting the room post haste. He returned momentarily, clumping noisily down the stairs and provoking the ire of Mrs. Black. "Here, Gin." He said, as he re-entered the room. "Would you like to do the honors?"
"Sure." Ginny said, standing from her seat at Harry's side and taking an object from Fred's hands. (Harry couldn't really see what it was, he had a rolled-up tongue in the way.) Settling herself next to him again, Ginny turned to Harry, and he had a vague impression of darkness descending before the world blacked out, save for a small, broken sliver of light at the bottom of his range of view.
"Hughuh?" He asked gracefully.
"It's a hat, Harry. Don't move." Ginny's disembodied voice informed him.
"….do you think?" Harry heard one of the twins ask.
"Maybe. We could always try…" the other responded.
"No, I don't think so. What with the…"
"That's true. Well, okay then, sideways first?"
"Yeah, count of two? One…two..."
Harry sat there nervously as the twins mumbled strange incantations under their breath, presumably to remove the effects of their ton-tongue taffy. Serin, being the over-protective familiar that he was, spent the entire time berating himself for not noticing the taffy in the porridge. Harry took advantage of the fact that he had a oversized hat on his head and assured Serin that he had no way of knowing, and that things would be ok. I hope, he added mentally to himself. At least the over-sized tongue still allowed him to hiss, if a bit sloppily.
Eventually, after much squirming on Harry's part, and two or three more muffled conversations from the twins, Harry was relieved to finally feel his tongue slowly shrink down to its normal size and actually fit inside of his mouth.
Once both hands were free, Harry reached up and yanked his hat off, sending a death glare in Ron's direction.
"Did you have to be such an ass?" Harry asked of him crossly.
"An ass? Where do you get of calling me an ass? I haven't even said anything to you today!" Ron's face turned red.
"You put the taffy in my porridge." Harry accused.
"Don't accuse me of something you have no proof of." Ron answered harshly. "You're the one who's trying to turn my family against me."
"What? I never wanted to turn anyone against you, in fact, I hope things stay golden between all of the Weasleys!" Harry protested, truly getting his hackles up.
"That's what you say but—"
"But nothing Ron! I've tried telling you this before, but you just won't listen, I want you to stay on good terms with your family. And it isn't my fault that you—"
"What? That I'm an insufferable prick? That I can't stand that you are such a glory hound? That I see through you to the fact that you need attention like most people need food and water? You have to be the center of attention, you always have." Ron spat.
"No, I don't! I just try to do what's best, and that usually gets me in the thick of things, I'm sorry if I have conscience." Harry waved his hands around.
The argument was quickly making everyone in the room nervous.
"If you had a conscience, you wouldn't have run from the ministry that night, you wouldn't have done magic, and you would have asked for help." Ron glowered at Harry, stabbing into his meal viciously with his fork.
"Help? What did you want me to do? Turn to Vernon and say, 'Sorry 'bout this old chap, but would you mind hiding me from the Ministry for a while? There seems to be a bit of a mix-up.'"
"Don't be stupid, Harry. Of course not." Ron's face was flushed with anger. "I just wanted you to think before you run off and get into a world of trouble again."
"Oh, that's just rich, coming from you." Harry snorted. "You are the epitome of a hot-headed brash old fool."
"You see?" Ron cried, looking around at everyone else at the table in triumph. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. I express concern for the fact that Harry could have gotten into trouble, and he throws it back into my face. He likes the trouble, and the attention it get him, he wouldn't know what to do without it."
"That's not true, Ron, and you know it." Harry said softly.
"Do I? You haven't done anything to prove me wrong yet. You're just a selfish, arrogant, stuck-up prick like always. I've just had enough of it." Ron said spitefully.
"How dare you—" Harry began.
"Harry could I talk to you for a moment?" Ginny said, rather too loudly.
Harry opened his mouth to again respond to Ron, then closed it and shook his head roughly. "Fine." Standing from the table, Harry made his way to the door following Ginny, keeping his eyes carefully trained away from Ron.
Ginny led Harry through the doors and into the foyer where she paused and leaned against the wall, her arms crossed defensively across her chest. "Harry? Did you have to be such an ass?" She asked mimicking his earlier question to Ron.
"What?" Harry cried, his volume rising alarmingly so that Ginny unfolded her arms and made a palms-down gesture at him and hissed "Shh!" at him. "What?" He asked in a more normal tone of voice, though it was still filled with indignation. "How can you say that?"
"Harry," she said, "I managed to get all of the planets to align and have Ron promise to not be evil to you unless you are to him."
"What? How does that make me an ass?"
"Harry," she said with over exaggerated patience, "you said, and I quote, 'Did you have to be such an ass?' I think that counts as being evil."
"Ginny, he fed me a ton-tongue taffy."
"Did he? How do you know?"
"Well, I don't, but nobody else would.' Harry said uncertainly.
"With Fred and George in the family?" she said incredulously.
'Well...' Harry searched for something. "he laughed at me, and he called me a selfish, arrogant prick!"
"We all laughed at you." Ginny rolled her eyes heavenward as if silently saying 'honestly' "And he only said those things after you called him a hot-headed fool."
"But…"
"No, Harry. You didn't really have any reason to be mad. Yes, the prank was played on you at a bad time, but we all thought it was funny, and we've all had pranks played on us at various times, even Hermione. And none of us have gotten mad about it before. You only assumed it was Ron because he had finally managed to get the twins back today."
"So, you're telling me that it wasn't Ron?" Harry asked, his eyebrows raised. "Then who was it? You? It certainly wasn't the twins, they always claim credit for their pranks. Perhaps you think it was Hermione?" Harry's tone of voice dared her to tell him just that.
"No, not Hermione…" Ginny trailed off, looking down and to the side.
"Ginny?" Harry asked incredulously.
"I was just trying to help." She defended herself. "I thought that if somebody played a trick on you instead of Ron for a change, that he might not resent you so much."
"But, Ginny. What about my hearing? Didn't you think about me going to the hearing with a two-foot long tongue?"
"Not really, I just wanted to help." Ginny waved her hands about helplessly.
"Just…don't do it again, ok? What would have happened if the twins hadn't managed to undo the curse?" Harry frowned.
Ginny sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, this isn't what I wanted to talk to you about anyway. I have something to give you." She reached into her pocket and removed something, keeping her hand curled around the object. "Here."
Ginny reached over and grasped Harry's wrist, bringing his hand up and placing the item in his palm.
"What is this?" Harry asked, inspecting his hand. A shell lay in the palm of his hand, tiny and spiraling, there was the faintest hint of blue on the inside where the creature had once lived and zebra stripes of red gracing the outside. It was minute and perfect.
"A shell from an animal that I found at the beach. It's always brought me good luck. I want you to have it."
"This is your mysterious good luck charm?" Harry turned it over on his hand and delicately traced the swirling pattern with the tip of one finger.
"Yes." She said, looking off to the side in embarrassment.
"It's pretty." Harry assured her. "Where did you find it?"
"On the beach when we all went together, the summer before I started school."
"Ah, so that's—"
Arthur Weasley opened the door and entered, stamping his feet and rubbing his hands brusquely back and forth. "Whew! It's cold out there."
"Hi, Mr. Weasley." Harry said.
"Hey, Dad." Ginny said, giving him a hug.
"Hello, Ginny." Mr. Weasley said, giving her shoulders a squeeze. "Harry, are you ready to go?"
"Yes, sir, just about."
"Well, good. Just grab your cloak and wand, while I go let everyone know I'm here, and we'll be off."
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Having finally gotten away from Ron's irritating presence, and finding himself finally on the road to a hearing that was to determine the future of his magical career, Harry found himself suddenly extremely nervous.
The trip there was remarkably short; the majority of the time was spent waiting to check Harry in as a visitor, which required wading through inordinate amounts of red tape. Once it was done, and Harry was sporting a shiny new badge on his chest proclaiming his name for all of the world to see, Mr. Weasley let Harry down a corridor to something that reminded Harry strongly of an elevator. When asked what it was, however, he was a told that it was a 'putter-downer' and that it only went downwards; he was then informed that there was also a 'picker-upper', which, naturally, only went up.
There was even something called a 'scooter' that apparently went sideways, though the one at the ministry had been known to go both left and right, as the inclination struck it. Arthur had looked rather green as he'd said that, leading Harry to believe that the inclination struck rather more often than Mr. Weasley would have liked.
All too soon, they had reached the door to the room where Harry was to have his hearing, and he found that his agitation had increased ten-fold on their trip here, and he now was reduced to a barely held-together bundle of tightly strung nerves.
"Harry?" Arthur querried. "Are you alright? Do you need a minute?"
"N,no. yes. I don't know." Harry's hands were shaking.
"Here," Mr. Weasley conjured up a chair and told Harry to sit, "Just relax for a minute. You'll be okay. Just remember, you didn't do anything wrong." He patted Harry comfortingly on his shoulder "leaving your guardians' house was not illegal, because you had already been pardoned by the time you ran away, so the ministry has nothing to hold against you. You defended yourself, which is completely legal."
"I know, Mr. Weasley. But I'm still nervous." Harry clasped his hands, one in the other, and tried desperately to get control of himself. Now was not the time to be weak.
"Well, that's perfectly natural."
Harry took a deep breath and let it out through his teeth in a long hiss.
"I don't know if I can do thiss."
"Of coursse you can." Serin said quietly, from his position on top of Harry's ear, "Have faith, didn't the sshe-witch have good advice for you?"
"Yeah, yeah, I can do this." Harry said, strapping a bit of mental steel to his backbone. He was a Griffindor, dammit, and it was time to act like one.
"Good job, Harry. Now, it's about time for the hearing to start, so go on in." Mr. Weasley banished the chair as Harry stood shakily to his feet.
"What? You aren't coming with me?" Harry asked, rounding on his pseudo-father-figure with wide eyes. "I have to go in there alone?"
"Harry, I'm sorry, but I can't go in. It's your hearing, and since I'm not your guardian, I'm not allowed in. Don't worry, you won't be alone, Dumbledore will be along shortly to help. He might even be in there right now." Mr. Weasley gently grasped Harry's elbow in one of his hands and steered him towards the door. "But you have to go in now, or you'll be late."
Still shaking, and trying desperately not to bolt for the nearest bathroom, Harry entered the room, and instantly recognized it as a room that Dumbledore had shown Harry, through use of a pensive that contained one of Dumbledore's memories, at the end of his second year. In the memory, a convicted Death Eater had taken a seat in a chair in the center of the room, and chains had sprung to life, capturing the man and pinning him to the chair. Now, it seemed, Harry was expected so sit in that exact chair and face a full Wizengamot tribunal, a collection of approximately fifty witches and wizards, all high up in the Wizarding chain of command, and led by the rater inept Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.
Approaching the chair nervously, and settling himself gingerly upon its very edge, Harry looked about the room, hoping to see a friendly face.
None of the people present were smiling, and quite a few were frowning; for the most part, however, Harry was relieved to see, the Wizengamot members were simply serious. What he didn't see, was Albus Dumbledore. Hadn't Mr. Weasley said he'd be here?
Looking around once again, Harry was surprised to discover Percy Weasley present, and apparently acting a scribe, as he had copious amounts of parchment in front of him, his quill almost twitching in his hands at it hovered above the paper, dripping in ink. Percy did not acknowledge Harry, so he continued to look about the room, taking in the raised dais that the Wizengamot members were sitting on, the way the light petered out at the edges of the room, giving it the appearance that the room stretched on interminably beyond the range of his senses, and even the fact that there were a few empty seats, on of which he assumed once belonged to Lucius Malfoy. Perhaps another was for Dumbledore?
The Minister cleared his throat, and the hearing began.
"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August into offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statue of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey." Fudge's voice made an effort at booming through the room. "Interrogators; Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of magic; Amelia Suzan Bones, Head of the Department of magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Ministry. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley –"
"—Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," said a voice from behind Harry who, sure enough, was revealed to be the man himself, coming forward to stand beside Harry's chair, and giving him a sly wink before turning to stare solemnly at the people arrayed before them.
Despite the fact that Harry had been told Dumbledore would show up for his hearing, Harry gaped like a fish at the Headmaster's appearance, only managing to tear his eyes away from the man standing beside him, to focus on the people in front of him, when the Minister began to talk.
"Yes, well. Let's get on with it, shall we?" The Minister mumbled, clearly a bit put out. "We are here to discuss the actions of one Harry James Potter on the night of August 4th, in concern to his use of one Patronus charm in front of a Muggle." Cornelius paused and peered down at Harry over the edge of his dais. "You would be Mr. Potter?"
Harry was momentarily nonplused. "Erm, yes, I'm Harry Potter."
"Good, then we can proceed. Mr. Potter, did you, or did you not, use underage magic on the night of August 4th?" The Minister turned back to his notes.
"I did."
"Indeed. Did you, or did you not, specifically cast the Patronus charm?"
"I did."
"And did you, or did you not, cast this Patronus charm in the presence of a Muggle, specifically…" Fudge made a show of consulting his notes, flipping importantly between pages before he found what he was looking for on the first page. "…one, Dudley Dursley?"
"I did." Harry said flatly, hoping he would be able to get a word in edgewise.
"I see." Fudge peered at Harry for a moment before turning to the other members of the Wizengamot. "Any other questions?"
"I have one." Said the woman Harry recognized as being called Mrs. Amelia Bones, "You cast a Patronus, Mr. Potter? Was it corporeal?"
"I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you mean." Harry responded. At least she was giving him a chance to talk, and was even being polite about it.
"I mean to ask, was it fully formed, with a defined shape?" She clarified, leaning foreword in her chair.
"Yes. Of course it was." Harry frowned. What did that have to do with anything?
"Of course?" She seemed surprised. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well…ever since I learned how to cast a Patronus in my third year, I've always been able to cast one…well except for the first couple of times on the fourth."
"Please explain." Mrs. Bones asked kindly.
"Amelia, I fail to see how this is important." Cornelius tried to interject.
"I think it is very relevant, Minister. After all, it is the charm he supposedly cast. We must ascertain if he is indeed capable of casting such a thing, after all, not many full-grown witches or wizards can cast a Patronus, and Mr. Potter here claims to have mastered it in his third year at Hogwarts." She raised her eyebrow at her Minister.
"Hmph. Yes, well. Continue, then."
Amelia simply turned to Harry and looked inquiringly at him.
Harry took a deep breath, and began. "I learned how to cast a Patronus in my third year from Professor Lupin—"
"The werewolf." An unidentified voice spat, venomously.
"Yes, Professor Lupin is a werewolf," Harry bristled. "But he is also the best Defense against the Dark Arts teacher that Hogwarts has had for the past five years."
"Stay on topic, boy." Fudge instructed Harry crassly.
Fighting off his disgust at this man who was rapidly becoming associated with Vernon Dursley in his mind, Harry continued. "I learned the Patronus from Professor Lupin, because I am more susceptible to Dementors than most people seem to be."
"Nonsense." Fudge interrupted again, "Dementor's affect everyone the same."
"Indeed they do, Cornelius." Dumbledore spoke up for the first time, "But remember what that affect is? They make us relive our worst memories." He turned to Harry. "Kindly remind our Minister of what happened to you when you were a year old."
"Yes, sir." Harry said, unable to contain his amusement at the looks of horror he was receiving. "When I was a year old, Lord Voldemort came to Godric's Hollow where my parents were living and killed them in front of me, then he proceeded to cast the killing curse at me, but was destroyed himself."
Every single person in the room with the exception of Dumbledore and Harry himself had flinched violently at the name 'Lord Voldemort' and had paled to the shade of new parchment.
"This is what I see when the Dementors come near me, and since they were all over the place in my third year, Professor Lupin decided that it was wise to teach me the Patronus charm…if I could manage to learn it, which I did, eventually."
"You said that you could cast it reliably, with the exception of the night in question?" Amelia asked, once the shock had worn off a bit.
"Yes, the first exposure to the Dementors after so long was a bit overwhelming especially considering the…" Harry trailed off, uncertain as to how he should say the rest of his sentence, or even if it should be said at all. Opening his mouth, Harry choked on the words, and was reduced to staring helplessly at the Wizengamot in front of him.
"Considering what?" Amelia pressed.
"Considering the events of the Tri-Wizard Tournament." Dumbledore supplied quietly into the silence of the room.
"Pish, posh." The Minister said brusquely. "Nothing happened."
"Bullshit."
"Excuse me?" The Minister said in an enraged tone, his face turning lilac.
Just like Vernon. "You heard me. I said, 'bullshit'. Something most definitely happened. Even if you are unable to accept anything else that I have told you about the events of that night, you cannot deny that Cedric Diggory is dead." Harry stated flatly, his eyes flashing.
"Yes, yes. And it's a shame too," The Minister waved his hand about in a manner that suggested that the topic was irrelevant and unimportant, "but that doesn't prove anything else you said about that night is true, which, by the way, we are not here to discuss. What we are here to discuss is the underage magic that you admittedly performed in the presence of a Muggle."
"Because my life was in danger, as was the life of my cousin." Harry said through gritted teeth. Why wouldn't they listen?
"A likely story. My guess is that you were performing a bit of magic to show off to your Muggle cousin, thinking that, because you are the boy-who-lived, you'd get away with it. Well, you thought wrong." Fudge said triumphantly. "We bend the rules for no man."
"If, indeed, Mr. Potter is lying about the Dementors, then by all means, he must face the consequences of such actions. However, one must also consider the fact that he might be telling the truth, and search for something, or perhaps, someone? – to discern the validity of Mr. Potter's claim." Albus Dumbledore steepled his fingers and rested his chin on the bony digits, gazing calmly at the people arrayed before him. "It just so happens that I know of someone who has that ability."
"Hmph. How convenient for you." Fudge said acridly.
"Indeed." Dumbledore agreed easily. "Shall I call her in?"
"No. I see no reason to allow you to bend the rules for Mr. Potter." Cornelius seemed to derive pleasure from denying the Headmaster of Hogwarts.
"Minister," Amelia Bones offered tentatively in. "Perhaps we should listen to…"
"Absolutely not." Fudge cut her off. "You've all seen him bend rules and lie outright when it comes to this boy, I'll not allow him to do it again."
Harry was furious. "If you are do damn concerned about me lying about the Dementors, then feed me Veretaserum! Or give me a pensive, and I'll show you what happened!"
"Absolutely not! The use of Veristaserum on a minor is strictly forbidden! Besides, its use is strictly regulated by laws that are in place for your protection, Mr. Potter. By saying that, you have once again asked us to bend the rules to fit around you." A simpering, oily voice called out to Harry from the shadows at the elbow of the Minister. "Perhaps the things the Prophet says about you are right after all."
Harry was shocked, and angry. If he was anywhere else, or in the presence of anyone else, he'd have called that voice up for what it had said and gotten in a fight. However, considering his circumstances, he considered discretion to be the better part of valor. At least at the moment.
The body belonging to the voice leaned foreword, and Harry found himself staring into the eyes of one of the ugliest women he'd ever seen. Even Petunia was prettier.
She had a large head with wide eyes, that seemed far too apart from each other, as if they both had decided to crawl off in the opposite direction from the other. Her mouth was just as wide, with thin lips topped by a large flat nose. She wore a hideous green cardigan over an outrageous pink shirt, which was so bright it shone straight through the fabric of the cardigan. The top of her head sported strands of hair that reminded him of hay, and those were tied back from her face with an over-sized purple bow that fluffed up on both sides of her head, with the ends trailing down the back to disappear below the level of her shoulders.
She was hideous.
She was revolting.
She was…
"What a large frog." Serin said with fascination. "What iss it doing here? Iss it the fat man's familiar?"
Harry took a deep breath and held it, desperately trying to contain his laughter as well.
"Nothing to say, Mr. Potter?" Came the simpering voice from out of the frog's mouth.
"N-nothing, at the moment." He managed to squeak, his mirth building.
"So the accusations made by the Prophet are true, then?" she asked with what Harry assumed was supposed to be a smile, though it only served to make her more frog-like.
"No. I am not a lying manipulative child who only wants attention. The Dementors came, they attacked me and my cousin, they attempted to kiss my cousin, and I cast a Patronus charm to drive them away." Harry was getting annoyed again.
"Iss it not a frog?" Serin asked, still fixated upon the woman at Fudge's elbow.
"Hush!" Harry hissed at him under his breath.
"I'm sorry, you must understand, perhaps my age is getting to me but…what does this line of questioning have to do with this Hearing?" Dumbledore asked benevolently.
"Absolutely—" The woman began.
"Enough." The Minister said, obviously feeling like he'd lost control of the Hearing. "Who here thinks Mr. Potter is guilty of underage magic?" Unanimously, all hands went up in the room, even the Headmasters.
Fudge raised his eyebrows. "Professor Dumbledore?"
"Yes, Cornelius?"
"Why did you raise your hand? You are not a part of the committee."
"Your powers of observation have not failed you, you are indeed correct. I am not a member of the judging committee." Anyone else would have sounded condescending, but not Albus Dumbledore. "However, you asked who thought he'd performed underage magic, and I though it best to be prudent and raise my hand, as you did not specifically leave me out of your question, and I do indeed believe he performed underage magic."
"But?" Mrs. Bones asked.
"But I do not believe he did so illegally."
"Because of your witness?" she asked.
"Because of my witness." Dumbledore nodded.
"Minister?" Mrs. Bones turned to Fudge and raised her eyebrows inquiringly, conveying the message that she would not leave the issue of the eyewitness alone. By the shear number of people looking at him in the same manner as Mrs. Bones, the minister knew that they wouldn't either, and he sighed.
"Alright, Professor Dumbledore, call your witness."
"At once." Dumbledore turned his head and winked encouragingly at Harry before getting up from his chair and striding to the back of the room. He returned moments later with none other than Mrs. Figg.
"State your name." Percy Weasley spoke up for the first time. "For the records."
"Arabella Doreen Figg." She said clearly, pulling at the handle of her enormous purse.
"Profession?" Percy asked again, his quill scratching against the parchment busily.
"Er, cat-lady." She said softly.
"Hmm." Percy made a notation on a separate piece of paper and lapsed into silence.
"I was unaware that there were any witches living in Little Whinging" The toad said.
"I'm not a witch, I'm a squib." Mrs. Figg raised her chin determinedly.
"Can you see Dementors as a squib?" The Minister mused to himself.
"Yes, indeed I can see Dementors! I'm not a Muggle, I have SOME magic, enough for basic spells, if I'm really trying." She said hotly.
The Minister instantly backed down. "My apologies Mrs. Figg. So….did you see Dementors in Little Whinging on the night of August 4th?"
"Yes. I did. They were attacking this boy," she waved her hand at Harry Potter, whose eyes shone with gratitude. "And his pig of a cousin in an alleyway. Dudley was curled up against a dumpster, his hands clamped over his ears and Harry was slumped against the wall, his wand aimed at the Dementors, screaming expecto patronum.
"I turned to get help, but I turned back when I heard a whimper and I saw one of the Dementors prying Dudley's hands away from his face and turning his head towards it's own. I believe it was going to kiss him." She shuddered. "Not even that boy should be kissed by Dementors.
"I ran then, to get help (I'm connected to the floo network) and came back in time to escort Harry and Dudley safely to their house at Number Four Privet Drive."
"Did you see his Patronus?" Fudge asked.
"No, I left when he was only getting a feeble light."
Cornelius pounced on that. "So, you did not actually see him cast a Patronus at the Dementors, only attempt to?"
"…Well, no…" Mrs. Figg began to fidget with her handbag again.
"So we have no guarantees that he can actually—" Fudge let out an inarticulate cry of shock when Harry whipped his wand out of his robes and cried 'expecto patronum!'
Without pause, a mighty stag erupted from the end of Harry's wand and cantered the periphery of the room, staring into the shadows as if searching out Dementors. When it did not find any, it turned and approached Harry, once again disappearing right as Harry almost touched it.
"I can cast a Patronus." Harry said, his voice liquid thunder. "I was attacked by Dementors, and I did defend myself with my wand." He stowed his wand carefully way, lest they get an idea to take it from him.
"Thank you, Mrs. Figg. You may go now." Amelia said, when Fudge continued to stare at Harry in shock. "Show all hands who think Harry Potter is guilty of the misuse of underage magic?"
Three hands went up, Fudge's, the toads, and an unidentified person sitting off to the side.
"All right, then this is just a formality. All hands who think Harry Potter is not guilty of the misuse of underage magic?"
A forest of hands appeared.
"It's settled then. Harry Potter, you are hereby cleared of all charges, and may continue on at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry without recrimination."
ooOO00OOoo
The section in the hearing from "Disciplinary hearing…" to "…. Brian Dumbledore" with the exception of the phrase "Fudge's voice made an effort at booming through the room" comes directly from the book Order of the Phoenix which is written by J.K. Rowling.
Woot! This is the third time I've scrapped and re-written this chapter. I hope you all appreciate the hell I've gone through to make it presentable. You have no idea how lucky you are I have the wonderful beta's I do. Without them, this chapter would have smelled worse than the dispose-all. Many thanks to ScarletAngel2424 and Satir!
For those of you still reading, the next chapter will contain the trip to Diagon Alley, and Hermione will be doing something that no one is expecting. Ohhh, I just can't wait to see all of the reactions to the next chapter…. hope you enjoyed the show! Until next time….