TWO: Welcome to the Ministry

Thursday, August 3rd 1995

The sensation of living crept back into Harry's perception and with a shuddering groan he came to, finding himself in a nondescript room which could boast little but cream walls and the bench which Harry was currently lying upon. Eventually pulling himself into a sitting position the young teen held his head in his hands and started to piece together what he could remember of the preceding events.

It was as Harry was doing this that an auror, whom Harry recognised from his encounter on Magnolia Crescent, stepped into the tiny room and handed the teen a letter and a small parcel. Like the one that arrived at the Dursley's after Dudley's Dementor attack, this letter from Hopkirk at the Improper Use of Magic Office. With the letter and parcel delivered the auror left the room, leaving Harry to stare at the offending parchment in terror at what might be detailed within. They had already decided to expel him from Hogwarts. What this to be further punishment like Azakaban as he had feared?

With great effort and much reluctance Harry fumbled with the wax seal on the letter and unfolded the parchment.

Dear Mr Potter

We have received intelligence that you once again performed the Patronus Charm at thirty-one minutes past nine this evening in a Muggle-inhabited area.

Harry recalled the third Dementor attack and realised that the letter must have been sent last night and arrived after he'd been stunned by the aurors.

The repetition of this serious breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery now leaves us with little choice but to forcibly detain you at the Ministry of Magic till the previously scheduled disciplinary hearing on the twelfth of August.

With kind thoughts,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Improper Use of Magic Office

Ministry of Magic

Harry stared long and hard at the letter which explained his treatment at the hands of the aurors and the room within which he currently found himself. He was obviously considered a security risk at the moment and too dangerous to be left without supervision. Opening the accompanying parcel revealed to the teenaged wizard the two broken halves of his wand. Looking at the snapped tool Harry couldn't help but think back to his visit to Ollivander's when he originally obtained the wand. Mr Ollivander had claimed that the brother of his wand had been used for great, but terrible, things and that great things were expected from him also. Did his current situation qualify as great? mused Harry.

Slipping the letter and pieces of his wand into the pocket of his oversized trousers Harry lay back on the hard bench that constituted the room's only furniture, pillowing his head in the palms of his hands. He wasn't sure how long he had lain like that, but was sure that for some of the time he had been asleep. Now somewhat more awake than he had been when he'd received the letter, Harry pondered just how his friends might be reacting to the news of his arrest and detention. If they knew. For all Harry knew, no one other than a handful at the Ministry might even know he was here.

After another lengthy wait of nothing but looking at wall, something Harry had no issue with thanks to his many periods of captivity under the guardianship of the Dursleys, the monotony was broken by the arrival of not only a very basic meal which Harry assumed passed for breakfast, but also the arrival of Cornelius Fudge who was current Minister of Magic.

Accompanying the Minister was a larger, squat woman whom Harry could only assume was the magical offspring of a human and a toad. Her pink cardigan did her no favoured either as far as Harry's limited dress sense could tell. Behind the pair was Percy Weasley, which told Harry that if the Weasley's didn't already know of his predicament then they soon would, clutching a notepad and quill and wearing a serious look on his face.

"This is no good," began Fudge as Harry sat up to look at his guests. "I don't think there is much I can do for you in the light of your repeated defiance of wizarding law, Harry, or your blatant attention seeking behaviour in asserting the ridiculous notion that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has somehow returned from beyond the grave."

Harry stared at Fudge in amazed disbelief at this last statement, unable to quite grasp that the Minister was still clinging to the idea that Voldemort had indeed returned. His brain kicked into high gear and his finally realised why the Daily Prophet had made no mention of Voldemort's return in June, or of the Death Eaters that had returned to his service.

"But he has returned," protested Harry, his mouth not quite up to speed with his brain.

"Hem, hem," interrupted the large woman to Fudge's left.

"Ah, yes!" cried Fudge. "Now, Harry, this is Delores Umbridge, my Under-secretary, and I understand you already know Mr Weatherby."

Percy did well to hide any irritation he might hold towards his new boss over the error of his name, keeping himself to a polite, but distant, nod.

"As I way saying," went on the Minister, "Aside from your lies at the end of the Tri Wizard Championship, you have to face the charge of repeated violations of the underage magic decree. As such, you face expulsion from Hogwarts should the tribunal decide against you. I know that may seem like an extreme reaction, Harry, but we can't let your behaviour corrupt that of the other students you see."

"I think it best," added Umbridge in her sickly sweet tones, "that we leave you now to think about your misadventures. I am afraid that in order to safeguard your trial from potential outside manipulation by powerful wizards, that you will not be allowed visitors other than Minister of myself until after the hearing."

The three began to leave, Percy pausing only long enough to hand Harry a sheet that outlined his arrest and incarceration and the reasons for such action. Harry wanted to protest that it was over-the-top and extreme, but since he had little knowledge of wizarding law he didn't see the point in trying to argue at this stage. He could only hope that someone like Mr Weasley would be able to help him somehow.

Harry settled back on the low bench, leaning back against the wall and drawing his knees up to his chin. He'd felt alone before, being the odd one out in the Dursley household for fourteen years had taught him much about loneliness. The mantle of the Boy-Who-Lived was an added example of being alone, singled out and isolated at school for something he hardly remembered. Yes, he had Hermione and Ron as friends, but he did wonder if they really understood just how lonely he felt sometimes. Ron's behaviour during the first task of the Tri Wizard Tournament suggested that Ron didn't really know.

Friday, August 4th 1995

The boy woke with a start, whispy images of torches and corridors floating away like a morning mist. Harry wondered if he was dreaming about Hogwarts now that the potential existed for him to never set foot in the place again. He found that he was still sitting with his back pressed up against the wall, head on his knees and realised that he had fallen asleep in such a position. Not that he wasn't used to it after numerous years inside his tiny cupboard.

Harry's reason for waking became quickly apparent when he lifted his head to see the bland face of an auror looking down at him. The man in question held out a tray that had something that presumably passed for food heaped upon it. Harry took the tray and set it down in front of himself and auror returned to the door of the room.

"Madame Umbridge will be down to visit you in a few minutes Mr Potter," sniffed the auror disdainfully before leaving, the door closing with a series of heavy thumps that told Harry that the room had been locked in some manner.

Harry poked the 'food' with the provided fork and wondered just what it was supposed to be as he didn't recognise it, not even after many years of cooking breakfasts for the Durleys. He tried eating some of what had been offered, however grudgingly, but found the food unpalatable. Harry had to wonder just how long he'd been asleep for and was frustrated that he had no means of recording the passage of time since his watch had been ruined during the Tri Wizard Championship and he had yet to replace it. He wondered if he'd sleep longer than he normally did because of the stunner he'd been on the receiving end of.

That he couldn't recall what the side effects of a stunner were had Harry tasking himself with learning more this coming school year, should he not be expelled. At least, he thought with a small grin, Hermione would be pleased since nothing she'd said or done had managed to get him to take his school work more seriously. Harry's train of thought was interrupted by the sounds of the door opening, it swinging open to reveal the promised visit from Umbridge.

She stepped in, clutching a small pink bag, and told the auror behind her to shut the door behind her, which he did so. This left Harry in his tiny room with the strange woman. She pulled out her wand and conjured a table and two chairs, sitting down in the one closest to the door. She gestured for Harry to sit in the other and, abandoning the plate of food he took it. Umbridge frowned.

"Mr Potter, I certainly hope that you are not rejecting the food we have so graciously provided for you simply to spite the Ministry."

"No, Ma'am," replied Harry.

"So why do you not eat?"

"It doesn't taste very nice," argued Harry.

Umbridge put on a face like she'd been struck with something. "You will eat it, Mr Potter, or you will go without."

Harry reluctantly got back up and shuffled to the bench, where he picked up the plate of food and brought it back to the table. Once he was seated again Umbridge took a good long look at him and so Harry returned the favour. The woman looked even less appealing up close, her choice of clothing, the pink cardigan again, was doing nothing but making her look oddly like a frog in a pink cardigan.

"Now, Mr Potter, I am here to see if we can resolve your issues with the Ministry before we reach the hearing," explained Umbridge in her sugary tone of voice.

Harry took a mouthful of the food and gulped it down, trying hard to suppress his urge to gag.

"My issues?" he finally asked.

"Yes, Mr Potter. Your disgraceful disregard for the laws that govern our society and keep it protected from muggles, as well as your blatant scare mongering with your outrageous lie that You-Know-Who has returned from the dead. As if you could have come up with a more improbable story!"

"But he is back," argued Harry.

Umbridge got a steely look in her eyes and reached down to the small pink bag she'd put down by her feet. From it she pulled several sheets of parchment which she pushed in front of Harry, who'd shoved his plate of food to the side. Then the woman produced a quill which she waved about a bit.

"You seem quite insistent on that point, Mr Potter," she sneered.

She put the quill down on the table and pointed to the parchment. "If you wish to hold to your obvious lie then I suggest you write down in your own words just why you claim that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned. I'm sure it will make for amusing reading."

Harry scowled at her jabs and snatched up the quill. Perhaps the annoying woman would believe him if he was willing to sign his name to a written statement. He gave Umbridge a short look.

"What are you waiting for, Mr Potter? Or are you willing to admit you've been lying?"

"No," ground out Harry through clenched teeth, "I'm waiting for some ink with which to write."

"Oh, you silly boy. That quill you hold is a special one. You won't be needing ink for it."

The look on Umbridge's face was enough to send a shiver down Harry's spine and he looked down at the parchment so that he didn't have to see it any longer. The Under-secretary seemed to be deriving an awful lot of enjoyment out of Harry's current predicament and he had to wonder why.

"Fine," Harry eventually bit out and he placed the quill on the parchment and began to write what he hoped would be a convincing statement. At least then it would get him off the hook for some of the charges the Ministry was levelling at him.

After a few seconds of dry scratching Harry felt a stinging pain on the back of his hand and saw fine lines being carves into it, just as the words he'd tried to write had formed on the parchment in what appeared to be red ink. He blinked before realising that it wasn't ink, but blood. His blood. His head snapped up and he fixed Umbridge with an astonished look.

"Don't look at me like that, Mr Potter. If you are so willing to back up what you say as being true, then writing out your statement in your own blood should be no burden at all."

Her teeth glittered like that of a shark's. "But, on the other hand, if you don't feel up two writing your statement then I'm willing to have you sign this one with regular ink."

Here the toady woman pushed and prewritten sheet in front of Harry and he scanned it with his eyes. To Harry it essentially was a confession, admitting that he'd lied about Voldemort's resurrection, about Sirius' innocence and the fact that Wormtail was still alive. It even ended with a statement endorsing Fudge and the great work he was doing for wizarding Britain.

Harry dashed the parchment to the floor. "I'm not going to sign that bunch of lies," he hissed.

Umbridge smiled sweetly at him. "Then, I suggest you make a good start on your own statement." Her head nodded at the quill and sheet before him.

Harry settled for glaring at her and, slowly and very painfully, began to write out his own statement of events about Voldemort and his resurrection in the cemetery of Little Hangton. The sensation of the quill invisibly cutting into the skin of his hand was pure torture, leaving the hand sore and an angry red colour.

For the next hour, as Harry worked on the statement bit by bit, Umbridge watched on impassively. Finally Harry felt he was finished and signed the statement before putting the quill down and pushing the parchment towards Umbridge.

"Done," he said. "Give it to the Minister."

The woman put the quill away while Harry cradled his injured hand. He then made a great deal of reading his statement which she then abandoned on the table top.

"Unacceptable, Mr Potter," she said coldly as she flicked her wand. "Incendio!"

The parchment that Harry had worked so hard on went up in a burst of flames. Harry couldn't help but gape open mouthed at what Umbridge had just done. She then flicked her wand again as she stood up and the table and two chair vanished, Harry tumbling awkwardly onto his arse.

Picking up her pink bag she walked to the door and knocked. "I shall return tomorrow , Mr Potter, and we shall see if you are little more amenable then to doing things the right way."

An auror opened the door to the room and Umbridge exited, leaving Harry on the floor with his hurting hand and voice in his head screaming 'why?'