Author's note: Dear reader! I'm sorry it took me so very long to produce this newest installment of „A witch's shards". A combination of uni, writers block and too much intoxicating reading material is to blame. While I was writing, the infamous court scene got longer and ever more complex, until I decided to cut it into two parts. Here is the first one, the hearing of evidence and the sentence will follow as soon as my muse and calendar allow.
A little spoiler for chapter seven: The plot will thicken and Harry Potter will get a look at a Ministry courtroom much earlier than in canon.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter series. I wouldn't dream of making any money with fanfiction anyway.
Part 2
Holidays from Justice
Chapter 2
About thirty minutes had passed since Selwyn's visit in her cell when Hermione's raging mind settled down enough to tackle the content of his words in the structured and logical way she ordinarily used to do her homework or to reason through the mysteries of the magical world.
She started with the facts she was absolutely sure of- primarily her total innocence of any and all of his charges.
„I haven't even heard of the „Ruptis Vinculis" ritual, that stupid book written by Grindelwald or that it's possible to get rid of the trace." she thought indignantly.
Her outrage at the false accusations was strong enough to subdue her fear, at least temporarily. She began an attempt to integrate all the information she had as of now.
"Let's see- I've been arrested by the DMLE for crimes I haven't committed, after I woke up on the floor, surrounded by a pentacle." She hesitated and tried to remember if unicursal five pointed stars like the pentagram were used in actual magic and were more than just muggle superstition.
"Oh yes, there is a whole section on the magical properties of geometric forms in "New Theory of Numerology", and it includes the pentacle." she remembered from one of her "general reading" evenings in the library.
The passage pertaining to her current problems also mentioned dark magic and disgusting sacrificial practices.
"It seems reasonable to assume that all this is nothing but a setup." she concluded. Some unknown malicious entity was trying to harm her, using the judicial system of the ministry of magic.
A small smile formed on her features for the first time since this ordeal had begun- maybe there was reason for optimism after all.
"Surely, with mom and dad as my witnesses, with the application of common sense by the judges and with magic to check the truth of my testimony, I'll be free in no time at all."
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When they came for her, Hermione felt much more relaxed than she could've imagined when she woke up in the holding cell just hours ago.
She was sure that this farce would be over soon enough, because any so called „body of evidence" against her could only fall apart under close scrutiny.
She looked up at her captors and schooled her face into the calm and emotionless mask she had trained to adopt in the seemingly endless minutes of her imprisonment here. She had to stay cool and collected if she wanted to present her cause, that much was obvious.
Selwyn was accompanied by another wizard, a rather stocky man with a square face, shining bald head and very small blue eyes.
He looked at her like she was an interesting kind of beetle, one he would like to pierce with a shiny needle.
„This is hitwizard Jugson," Selwyn introduced him in his monotone voice „who just returned from Hogwarts, where he confiscated your school records. It seems they contain some very juicy tidbits of information."
He waited a moment and scrutinized her with a sharp look, gauging her reaction to this unexpected news.
Hermione felt a slight rise of unease, but kept her unreadable countenance intact. She was sure there was nothing in her files that could be used against her. It was obvious that the two hitwizards were just trying to unnerve her minutes before she faced the court.
She kept silent and fixed her eyes on the door, avoiding their hostile stares. „This little kitten thinks she's a Sphinx." Jugson growled. „We'll see how she holds up against the Dementors of Azkaban."
Against her fierce resolve, a cold shower ran down her back. She had read about the wizarding prison and the fearsome creatures guarding it when Hagrid had been taken there as a ministry scapegoat for the basilisk's attacks.
The description of their effect on the inmates had disgusted her and and had made her wonder about the wizarding world's view on torture.
Some of Hermione's disquiet must've shown on her face because Jugson gave a satisfied grunt.
Selwyn ignored his companion's words, flicked his right wrist and caught the wand shooting out of his sleeve with practiced ease, impressing his captive audience despite herself. He waved it through the air above Hermione's bonds, and they vanished like smoke..
„Stand up, hold your hands behind your back, and no funny business!" Jugson commanded. She did as he said, standing a bit wobbly on her legs, which were tingling like mad from the restarting bloodflow.
Selwyn produced handcuffs from the folds of his cloak and attached them roughly, scraping her skin and forcing a barely suppressed wince out of her. With another swish of his wand he transfigured her nighty into a simple black robe that fell down to her ankles.
„We'll escort you to the court now." he explained. „If you try anything, you will regret it. Move!"
Hermione started to walk slowly on her still not fully recovered limbs, unwilling to stumble around like a helpless toddler. Selwyn took a few quick steps and opened the door in front of her.
She walked through it and found herself in a badly lit corridor made of black stones. The few torches along the walls gave of an ominous green light that reminded her of Professor Snapes dungeon classroom at Hogwarts.
„To the right, and quick now!" came Jugsons voice from behind. She began to go in the given direction and was very relieved when the feeling fully returned to her legs.
Their footsteps echoed hollowly in the long hallway, contributing to her raising foreboding. The two DLME henchmen didn't speak again until they arrived at a large doorway set in the right wall.
This time it was Jugson who stepped in front of her to open. He gave her a nasty, threatening smirk before he pushed down on the handle and lead Hermione into the courtroom.
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A jolt of relief shot through her when she entered and saw her parents sitting on a bench to the left side of the chamber. They wore their best clothes and looked healthy, but their faces showed a curious blankness, as if their presence at a wizarding tribunal didn't face them at all.
For a moment she thought they were merely exhibiting their „professional" faces, but when neither Charles nor Miriam reacted in any way to their shackled daughters appearance, Hermione felt her alarm from earlier that morning return tenfold.
„Something is wrong! What did they do to them?" she thought anxiously. The desperate need to check on her loved ones wiped all of Hermione's carefully laid plans for her trial conduct from her mind.
She leapt away from her guards and started to run towards her parents as fast as she could, but the polished marble floor turned out to be far too slippery for the rather unatheletic girl.
Unbalanced by the arms bound behind her back. Hermione stumbled and fell, painfully bloodying her knees in the process.
A fraction of a second later, a glistening red curse whooshed over her head and hit her motionless mother in the chest.
Before Hermione's horror widened eyes, Miriam Granger toppled over like a felled tree and crashed to the floor. The back of her head smashed against the black marble and produced a sickening crunching sound, then she lay still.
Time seemed to stretch like a rubber band while her eyes wandered from the prone figure of her mom to the still form of her father, who hadn't moved even a finger while his wife became collateral damage.
His face looked as if it was chiseled in stone, not a single muscle moved and his eyes stared unseeingly, like those of a dead fish.
The rubber band snapped back and Hermione felt something break loose inside of her.
Rage like she had never known before surged through her body, a tidal wave of uncontrollable power that felt as if it could annihilate everything in its path.
She sprang up from her kneeing position, but before she could turn around, a hard blow hit her in the back and sent her down again. Ignoring the intense pain from her back and her doubly abused raw kness, Hermione threw herself to the side and came face to face with her attackers.
The baffled expression on Jugson's face only served to stroke the wild magic flowing through her veins. His outstretched wand was still pointing at the place she had occupied a second ago.
Beside him stood Selwyn, who looked even more perplexed, his wand arm hanging loose at his side.
The seething anger rampaging though her exploded at the sight of Miriam's assailants, it made her hairs stand up and bristle with energy. Morphing into pure hate, it was a lioness, roaring in her ears, searching for a way, any way, to hurt those hurting her.
She wrenched her arms around behind her until the fingers of her right hand were trained on Jugson.
Hermione, the straight 'O' student who knew every spell and curse of the first and second year curriculae by heart, didn't cry out an incantation, neither did she swish or flick with her fingers, as if she held a wand.
All those intricate methods of wielding magic seemed to be moot accessories, when the pulsing, red hot ire inside of her found its way to her fingertips and embodied itself in a jet of blinding blue light that raced across the gap between her and the hitwizard.
The bald man shouted something unintelligible and a gleaming white shield flickered into existence in front of him, just in time to intercept her furious attack. He was thrown back and landed a dozen feet away, the impact driving the air from his lungs.
With savage satisfaction, she switched her attention to Selwyn, who had shaken off his surprise and was brandishing his wand in her direction.
A red curse sprang from it's tip and darted towards her. She started to roll away, but the awkward position of her bound arms slowed her down too much to escape unharmed.
This time, her legs took the hit and a sudden dizziness set in. Hermione tried to move further sideways, but her senses were suddenly too muddled to succeed and the rage that had fueled her actions until now was draining away rapidly.
Sylvin's face appeared in her shrinking field of vision, and his scornful expression seemed to mock her, just before her consciousness faded away.
/HG/HG/HG/HG/HG/HG/HG/HG/HG/HG/HG/HG/HG/HG/HG/HG/HG/HG
Professor Minerva McGonagall stared transfixed while the stupefied body of one of her model pupils was manhandled into the massive defendant's chair of the courtroom.
One of the hitwizards used his wand to chain the insensible Ms. Granger to the distasteful iron contraption. The incongruent sight of the young girl bound in magic resistant steel forced McGonagall to finally admit to herself that she felt deeply shaken.
Her day had started out calm and enjoyable enough, with a hearty breakfast in the almost empty great hall, strong coffee and a sedate workload to look forward to.
She hadn't been pleased when an owl landed in front of her, presenting a letter with the seal of the ministry of magic, but while Albus was away in Vienna to attend a meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards, it was her duty to deal with all ministry business.
To her surprise and disquiet, the message came from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It informed her in very curt sentences, that a hitwizard called Jugson – she'd never heard of him - solicited entrance into the school, to confiscate all of Hogwarts' documents pertaining to "Granger, Hermione J.".
The missive gave no explanation for this very unusual request, and McGonagall instantly began to worry about the soon to be third year student and her family.
Maybe someone in the DMLE had gotten wind on Dumbledore's time turner deal with the Unspeakables?
She hoped not, because convincing the secretive Department of Mysteries to part with one of their playthings for the benefit of a "mere" student had been hard enough without some other bureaucratic busybody sticking their nose into the scheme.
On the other hand, if this had nothing to do with Ms. Granger's wish to take up an impossible lesson plan, it would probably be something much worse than another roll of intraministerial red tape.
Unsettled and unable to eat another bite, she rose from the teachers table, straightened her severe black robes, nodded farewell to Filius Flitwick, the only other person attending this early, and marched off stridently to "welcome" the DMLE hitwizard to Hogwarts.
When she arrived in her spartan office, she threw a handful of floo- powder into the fireplace and called out: "Hitwizard office, Ministry of Magic". The fire -which burned day and night all year round for communicative purposes- turned green and McGonagall kneeled down in front of it.
Sticking her head into the flames, she ignored the disturbing mechanics common to floo calls, instead focussing on the questions she wanted to ask of this Jugson individual.
When the bureau came into view, she wasted now time and simply spoke into the room. "This is Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, could I speak with hitwizard Jugson, please?" A young wizard, who was sitting at his desk nearby looked up, gave her an acknowledging nod and went off in search.
A minute or two later, a rather stocky man came into view. He was bald, looked dominating in his black robe cum uniform and his eyes held an unpleasant coldness, somewhere between professionalism and cynicism.
"Deputy Headmistress." he greeted in a deep voice. "Thank you for answering my summons so promptly. Make some room and I'll come through immediately!"
She felt her irritation rise at his arrogant tone, but removed herself from the fireplace and walked swiftly over to her massive desk, sitting down behind it to underscore her own position and Jugson's role as petitioner.
He came through the floo like a charging dragon, making sparks fly up around him -some of which fell onto her carpet- and revealed himself as one of those DMLE agents who enjoyed playing the role coming with the job to the fullest extend possible.
McGonagall opened her mouth to reprimand him for scorching her furnishing, but Jugson cut her short. "Do you have the file on the Granger girl?" he pressed without preamble. "I've only got two hours to work through it before the trial starts."
Minerva McGonagall had decades of experience dealing with impertinent people, most of them her own students, but the way Jugson acted made her blood boil, her anger fueled as much by her increasing worry about Ms. Granger as by Jugson's audacity.
She stood up slowly, leaned over her desk and consciously produced the most frightening and fierce scowl at her disposel. Her inflection was at least as cold as the hitwizard's eyes when she finally addressed him.
"Mr. Jugson, before you get anything from me, be it another minute of my valuable time, or even the school files of Ms. Granger, you will explain to me in detail what this hassle is all about."
She stared him directly in the face and her expression dared him to ignore her wishes only at his own peril. After a few seconds of heavy, threatening silence, Jugson relaxed his aggressive body posture slightly. He sighed and shook his head.
"You have to excuse my lack of manners, deputy headmistress. I've been up all night dealing with the mess your" he stressed the possessive adjective as if to indicate McGonagall's personal responsibility "student Hermione Granger has made".
"What do you mean by "mess"?" she snarled. "Stop talking in riddles, my patience is running out!" Jugson stood his ground and tried in vain to hide his intense annoyance with her.
"Ms. Granger has been charged for using a dark arts ritual, trying to break the trace and corresponding crimes." he ground out. McGonagall gasped and raised a hand to her mouth in shock, but the hitwizard remained unmoved by her obvious distress.
"The girl's trial starts at 9 a.m. If you don't want a legal battle with the chief judge and Madame Bones, you better hand over those documents."
Silence fell over the office while McGonagall tried to assimilate what she had heard. Why on earth would Hermione Granger, a bright and very promising muggleborn witch, do any of those things.
Even more to the point, how could she have done magic that required at least sixth or seventh year knowledge? It sounded ridiculous, like something a paranoid blood purist would come up with.
She shook her head to clear away her confusion, and drew up her "no nonsense" persona, normally used to keep Gryffindor house under firm control. She discarded the accusations and focused on what had to be done now.
"Come with me!" she told Jugson abruptly, and strode out of her office without checking if he followed. "I'll take you to the archives, you can collect what you came for, and then I'll accompany you back to the ministry. I need to have a chat with Madame Bones."
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Waking up from magically induced unconsciousness was quickly becoming a hated routine for Hermione Granger. Even with the first flickering of perception, she had recognized the symptoms of being stunned.
In addition, her knees burned dully, her arms felt stiff like sticks and she had a taste in her mouth as if something had died in there. Her body felt drained compared to the time before, when she had awoken in the white walled holding cell. "Wait! Holding cell? Darn it!"
A cascade of disturbing associations was triggered and with a mix between a gurgle and a shout, she came to full awareness. Her eyes shot open and she tried to stand up, only to find herself tightly bound to another chair, this one placed in front of a bench seating three witches in daunting crimson robes.
They stared at her with an unreadable, flat demeanor, much more intimidating than any emotional display could've achieved.
Hermione wanted to shrink back, to close her eyes, to pretend she was too weak to sit trial, too exhausted to defend herself against their allegations, reality based and made up ones alike.
But she knew she couldn't do that, because there was something she desperately needed to know. At once.
"What did you do to my mom?" she cried in a voice that contained equal parts childish plea and teenage accusation. The three judges didn't react at all, but someone at her side cleared their throat.
She turned her head in that direction and came face to face with the last person she had expected. "Professor McGonagall?" she stammered, flabbergasted by her head of house's sudden appearance.
"Hello Ms. Granger. Your mother is alive and on her way to recovery." McGonagall said in her typical strict tone, one that was nonetheless soothing to her scared pupil. Hermione felt as if a heavy wight was lifted of her chest, and warm gratitude for her teacher welled up in her.
She shot a quick look at the bench, then leaned over to McGonagall as far as she could and whispered. "Thank you professor. I'm really grateful that you're here. Could I see my mom?" The deputy headmistress shook her head. "No, we had to move her to St. Mungos hospital to ensure that she is treated by the best healers."
She took a step closer to Hermione, and reduced the volume of her speech. "The paramedic who took her in also administered a dose of pepper up potion to you.
"I tried to dissuade the court from going ahead with the trial today, because you wouldn't wake up after the curse was lifted, but they were adamant."
The disapprovel McGonagall felt over this was easy to decipher from the frown on her face, but it was underlayed with something else, a strained reluctance. Was it distrust?
The dangerous situation she found herself in rushed back to overpower all the relieve she'd felt moments ago. Hermione pressed her lips together and tried to preserve some semblance of composure. She had the feeling that she would need every bit of it very soon.
Professor McGonagall spoke again, even more hushed than before. "I've been informed about the charges brought against you, and as your head of house and the person acting in loco parentis to you for the duration of the school year, I volunteered to be your trial counsel and witness for the defense."
She paused, mustering Hermione intensely, as if she wondered if her offer was such a good idea, after all. "Do you accept?"
Without hesitation, the young witch nodded fervently. "I would really appreciate that, Professor."
"There are only a few minutes left before the respite I obtained from the Interrogators runs out. We must improvise a realistic trial strategy. You are the accused, you know what happened. Do you have any suggestions?"
McGonagall looked expectantly at Hermione. The teenager squirmed uncomfortably in her chains, confused and miffed by her teachers attitude.
"Isn't it the task of the attorney to come up with all that, even more so when an underage person is prosecuted?" she wondered. Setting such juridical questions aside, she tried to recall what she'd planned before everything went haywire.
"I've actually given some thought to it while I waited for the hearing to commence." she explainer. "It seems to me that the best plan is the obvious one." She gave McGonagall an unsure look, but the deputy headmistress motioned her to go on.
"I want to plead "not guilty" to all original counts." Hermione declared fiercely, trying to persuade herself as much as McGonagall.
She remembered how confident she'd felt in the secure knowledge that she was an innocent victim of framing, but she couldn't predict how her most recent behavior would influence the trials outcome.
"As for my..." she hesitated, searching for the right word "eh, display before, I would like to claim that it was an excess of emergency assistance to my parents."
She waited a moment to give the professor an opportunity to add something, but to her disappointment, McGonagall acquiesced to her proposed agenda without further question, as if it wasn't that important to her.
"What's wrong with the professor?" Hermione fretted. "Does she know something I don't about the evidence they will display?"
Before she could formulate a polite way to question McGonagall, the deputy headmistress turned away from her and gave a bow to the judges.
The one sitting in the middle, a toad-like person with a wide face, fat jowls and bulging eyes -all in all a disturbing sight- harrumphed and set up as straight as her voluminous body allowed.
She gave a pompous wave to a mousy little women sitting in a small booth to the side, and started to read from a parchment clutched in her stubby, beringed fingers. Her voice was absurdly high pitched and her mien seemed to indicate that she thought the whole proceedings were held in her own honor.
"Criminal inquiry, Tuesday August 26 1993, into the reprehensible activities of one Hermione Jane Granger. Closed session due to the defendant's juvenility. Presiding Interrogator:" - at this point she seemed to swell up even more- "Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic."
She paused for a moment, savoring her importance, and when she went on, her tone got increasingly listless.
"Assessors: Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." The woman to Umbridge's left gave a curt nod. She had short grey hair, wore a monocle and projected a sense of respectability that the Senior Undersecretary decidedly lacked.
Umbridge droned on. "Mafalda Maria Hopkirk, Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office." The judge on the right produced a nervous little bow, her oddly avian features scrunched up as if she would rather be elsewhere.
"Defense witness: Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry". Hermione wasn't entirely sure, but from Umbridge's tone she got the impression that the toad- woman didn't much like McGonagall.
Finally, the list of attending officials ended with "Court Scribe: Mary Elizabeth Cattermole."
A long silence occurred while the "Presiding Interrogator" - a rank sounding nearly as threatening as the old catholic title of "Grand Inquisitor", at least in Hermione's opinion- shuffled through the mount of files on her desk.
Despite the feeling of constant distress that seemed to permeate her mind, Hermione's natural curiosity used the lull to emerge from it's hiding hole.
First, she tried to look behind her, to check if her dad was still sitting on his bench like an abandoned pillar of salt, but the way she was fixated to the high backed chair didn't allow it.
Disappointed and scared for Charles' well being, she distracted herself by stretching her neck, and turned her head in all physically possible directions.
The torch light in the court room was dim, just bright enough to read, other people's faces or texts alike, and the walls were made of black stone, exactly the same material as in the corridor outside.
If the architects of this edificial abomination had been aiming to cause an oppressive and bleak feeling in everyone who entered, they had outdone themselves.
But the strangest thing in the room was the ceiling, or, to be more precise, it's nonexistence. The walls just went up and up, until they vanished in a pitch black rectangle.
It reminded her of pictures she had seen from the inside of elevator shafts, and it induced the same impression- claustrophobia.
"Hem Hem!" Umbridge's simpering cough broke through the hush that had settled over the room, making Hermione's eyes snap back to the Senior Undersecretary's face, which held an expression of such honey encrusted malice, that her stomach plunged in fear.
"Now that Ms. Granger has decided to grace this court with her wandering attention, we will procede with the arraignment." She held out a scroll to Madame Bones.
"Amelia, would you do the honors? After all, it is the dependable work of your whole department which will ensure that this despicable criminal is brought to justice."
Madame Bones took the parchment, but she looked as if a bad tooth was plaguing her. Maybe she resented to be called by her first name in a court of law, but her distaste could also be a reaction to Umbridge's choice of words.
Hermione waited with baited breath for a razor sharp "Objection, argumentative!", or at least it's wizarding equivalent, but McGongall remained silent in the face of Umbridge's obvious prejudgment.
It was already the second such infraction if one counted the ludicrous insertion of Hermione's so called "reprehensible activities" into the reading of the list of attendants.
This trial shaped up to be irregular, at least if she applied the little she knew of muggle standards of justice, and Hermione's trust in a fair and lawful process got it's first cracks.
She tried to imagine what the Presiding Interrogator's continued and inexplicable enmity to her would mean for the whole proceedings, and the result was terrifying.
It was clear that she couldn't let this kind of behavior go unchallenged for long, if she wanted a good chance of being acquitted. Hermione resolved to press McGonagall on it as soon as the opening phase of the trial concluded.
"We will start by confirming the accused's personal information." the head of the DMLE declared authoritatively. Her sharp gaze fell on Hermione. "Are you in fact Hermione Jane Granger, of number twelve Essex Villas, Kensington, London?"
"Yes, your honor." Hermione acknowledged shakily.
Without further ado, Madame Bones started to read the arraignment in her loud and clear voice.
"This court, instantiated by the Wizengamot, and in it's current disposition authorized by Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, charges Hermione Jane Granger, at present student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, with the following crimes."
Hermione leaned forward and tried to mobilize all her concentration. This was it. The police -or hitwizards- could accuse you of anything they wanted, but what counted was what the prosecutor thought they could actually proof.
Or at least that was what they always said in "Crown Court" on Channel 3. She nearly missed when her "Interrogator" carried on.
"Count one: In the night of Monday, August 25th 1993, at twelve minutes past two, Ms. Granger attempted to implement the "Ruptis Vinculis" ritual, banned under the Prohibitions against Dark Rites and Sacrifices Act, revised version of 1947."
"Still as ridiculous as the first time I heard it!" Hermione thought. "But the accusation is made all the more chilling by their presumption that they can provide compelling evidence that I did this."
She shuddered, remembering how she'd woken up on the floor, in the midst of a pentagram.
Hermione send a look in McGonagall's direction, gauging her reaction to the severeness of the charge, but the professor's stoic expression was unreadable, only accentuated by an ambiguous frown.
"I really hope the court's list of imputations is shorter than Selwyn's!" Hermione pondered frightenedly. It pained her that her head of house had to hear this, and even more the possibility that she believed some of it.
Indeed, Madame Bones' powerful oratory gave those allegations much more credibility, even in Hermione's ears, than they deserved when weighed against their patent absurdity.
"Count two: The accused perpetrated this transgression to break the charm known as "The Trace", placed on her in accordance with paragraph F, article four, of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery from 1875.
As specified in appendix seven of said Decree, every attempt to tamper with the aforementioned charm is in and of itself a crime against the state."
"What does 'crime against the state' mean?" she thought furiously. "If it's the same as in muggle law, they are calling me a traitor!" Alternating waves of heat and cold began to run down her back and she started to feel even more queasy.
The relentless sequence of condemning legalese continued despite Hermione's hopes for the contrary.
"Count three: In order to facilitate heretofore mentioned crimes, the accused - at approximately quarter past five on the evening of Friday, August 22th 1993 – illegally acquired and possessed the book "Breaking the bonds", written by the dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald.
This manuscript is listed as item number twenty-seven on the DMLE's Executive Censorship Decree on Dark Artifacts."
"I would really like to know from where they get those precise dates and times." Hermione wondered. "But it's most likely the same place where this whole plethora of nonsense originates" she concluded "some nasty buggers perfidious mind."
"Count four: Not more than one hour ago, Ms. Granger resisted ministry personal and used wild magic of unknown power and effect against hitwizard Attor Wregan Jugson, who avoided injury only by his fast reaction.
Paragraph eight of the DMLE Code of Justice classifies every attack against an officer on duty -harmless or not- as criminal obstruction."
Madame Bones looked up from the parchment and gave Hermione, who had started to shrink into herself in face of the only halfway legitimate charge, a piercing look, as if she wanted to make sure that the defendant was still following the account of her alleged depravations.
She cleared her throat and drank from a glass of water standing in front of her.
"Ancillary to her crimes, Ms. Granger committed the following misdemeanors."
Hermione paid heed. "Maybe the worst is over now?" She longed for this farce of an accusal to finish, to get an opportunity to react.
"Count one: To achieve the "Ruptis Vinculis" ritual, Ms. Granger performed at least three other incantations, all in violation of paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery."
"They couldn't be more unspecific if they tried!" Hermione raged inside, frustrated and scared by her unfamiliar role as helpless punching ball of a hallucinating justice system.
A new thought popped up. "What if that's exactly what they did? Maybe this is a weakness in their prosecution and the wishy- washy wording is their way to hide it?"
She made a mental notice of this and switched her focus back to Madame Bones.
"Count two: The accused performed her acts in a muggle area, although their nature embodied an extremely heightened probability of detection, breaking paragraph seven, article three of the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy."
"Now they start to argue with counterfactual probabilities, they must be really eager to hit me with every paragraph in the books."
McGonagall seemed to share her assessment, because her constant frown lifted just a bit.
"Count three: The above mentioned actions, especially the defendant's endeavor to execute the volatile "Ruptis Vinculis" ritual, constitute a reckless endangerment of muggles, namely Ms. Granger's parents and neighbors. This is an unambiguous breach of paragraphs twelve, thirteen and thirty- four of the Law of Conduct When Dealing With Muggles."
"I'd like to know how they reconcile their own treatment of mom and dad with that darn law." Hermione thought agitatedly.
"Breaking into our house, kidnapping them and somehow paralyzing them beyond the ability to move a single muscle, that ought to be a real "unambiguous breach" of a whole bunch of paragraphs!"
Her bitterness must've shown on her features, because Undersecretary Umbridge smiled widely when she addressed the court again.
"Thank you Amelia, for this comprehensive account of Ms. Granger's deeds."
Her bulging eyes shone with barely contained malevolence when they focused on Hermione. The young witch got the unsettling impression that the disgusting woman was hoping to destroy her with her gaze alone.
"I'm sure every witch and wizard of good standing would agree that Ms. Granger must be severely punished for her crimes." Umbridge simpered. "She is a prime example for the total failure of liberal education and permissive muggleborn integration policies."
Hermione opened her mouth slowly, careening between her burning desire to tell the "Presiding Interrogator" what she thought of her attempt to instrumentalize this already farcical trial for reactionary political propaganda, and the undiluted fear the whole situation sparked in her.
McGonagall stepped closer and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and that was the only thing which finally stopped her from an undoubtedly disastrous outburst.
Neither Madame Bones nor Mafalda Hopkirk looked pleased by the direction in which Umbridge was taking the trial, but they didn't intervene when the Senior Undersecretary continued.
"I admit" the women lilted "that the defendant is very young in years, but that serves only to underscore her wickedness and the collapse of educational discipline that must've preceded her descent into the dark arts."
She looked around the room triumphantly, as if she was speaking to an audience made up entirely from her personal fanclub.
"But the Ministry of Magic and our laws are just. If Ms. Granger is ready to confess now, to plead guilty on all charges, this court will surly be prepared to show her some clemency."
Umbridge's gaze returned to Hermione and rested on her for several silent, charged moments.
Maybe she tried to project benignity, but the resulting grimace reminded Hermione of nothing more than the smiling face of Pennywise the clown, a character from a horror movie she'd once caught a few glimpses of before her parents hurried her off to bed.
"On the other hand" Umbridge went on, her impossible wide mouth twisting into a grotesque sneer "obduracy and the playing of futile legal games will only result in a sentence that fits the crime."
The Undersecretary bowed forward on the bench, and the wooden chair bearing her weight creaked alarmingly. She stared at Hermione and their eyes met for a second.
In that fleeting instance, the girl saw something horrible deep inside the toads protruding black orbs, a gruesome craving, intermingled with sadistic malignity. It chilled Hermione to her very bones.
"How do you plead, Ms. Granger?"
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