Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his whole universe belongs to J. K. Rowling and her associates. I'm just having a good time playing with it all, and I, unlike the owner, don't make a penny from it.
The Scottish Connection
Ch. 2
The Hearing
After being roused by Dobby, not to mention a Dobby Special Cheese Sandwich, ungodly early on Saturday, Harry was in the kitchen and had just poured himself a cup of tea, when all Hell broke loose in his shirt pocket.
Considering the hour, a surprising lot of people were present, presumably in order to support him before the hearing, and everybody in the room looked perplexed at the noise, except Hermione who – knowing what the noise was - looked positively shellshocked!
Harry calmly pulled out the phone and flipped it open, briefly looking at the caller-ID. Everyone present saw his dull eyes brighten, and the corners of his mouth curl slightly upwards, for the first time since his arrival.
"You've called Perfect Potter, the Hogwarts Hunk. He's speaking."
"Prat! It's me, but you already knew that."
"Good morning, Sunshine. What's gotten into your knickers this early? Or can't you find them?"
Harry had to work hard not to laugh at the gobsmacked stares all around him.
"Behave, Gilderoy Jr., or I'll revoke any and all rights you have now!"
"Ouch! You scare me witless, Fair Maiden, and I'd rather you screw me senseless. Does this mean that you're calling off the threesome? Pansy is going to be so disappointed."
Several jaws dropped, Sirius looked proud, Ron and his mother both went crimson, and Hermione sported an interesting expression – somehow she managed to look both resigned and incensed.
"Eewww! Don't be disgusting, Harry. Enough of your teenage boy dreams already. Aunt Mhairi just floo'd from the Ministry. Fudge has rescheduled your hearing to 8 o'clock, and he's moved it to Courtroom 10 for a full trial. Uncle Albert is on top of it, and 'Fergus' will move just before eight. Now you just get that cute behind of yours moving and get over there. Mhairi is waiting in the Atrium."
"Bollocks! I'd better get going, then. See you."
When Harry finished the call, Armageddon erupted around him.
"Is that a fellytone?"
"You had better watch your language, young man!"
"Where'd you get that phone?"
"Sounds like ickle Harrykins..."
"...Has got himself a lady friend..."
"...And a kinky one at that..."
"How do you make that work here?"
"You... and Pansy... and..."
"Who was that calling?"
"Why havent you told anyone about that?"
...And the cacophony went on, until Harry lost his patience.
"SHUT UP, YOU MORONS!"
"......"
"That's better." Harry glared at them all in turn. "Yes, it's a mobile phone, and who called is nobody's business but mine. I can tell you it was someone who's been a lot more of a friend than any of you – not that that would take a whole lot - and said friend just informed me that the Disaster of Magic has transfigured my hearing into a full trial, and that it's to start in 20 minutes, so I'm out of here," and before anybody could move, he'd grabbed a pinch of floo powder, and disappeared into the green flames.
Another five seconds or so ticked away, while the inhabitants, and the guests, of no. 12 Grimmauld Place just stared uncomprehendingly at each other, and then Armageddon broke loose once more. Mrs. Weasley desperately – and futilely - tried to floo Dumbledore; Hermione whimpered about Harry going to Azkaban, until Lupin silenced her; the younger Weasleys tried to guess who Harry's lady friend might be – Ginny actually got it right, but was vetoed by the others – until they agreed that since Harry hadn't told anybody about her, and adding the 'Pansy-comment', she was most likely a Slytherin - even if they really couldn't see anybody from that House successfully operating a telephone; and Tonks and Mr. Weasley departed for the Ministry as fast as they could, to see if they could catch Harry before someone else did.
------
After a nauseating journey through the Floo system, Harry was catapulted out of a fireplace in the Ministry Atrium, gracelessly landing, face first, at the feet of a rather petite brunette.
"Damnation! I hate this," Harry coughed. "You'd think that magic could come up with something just a little more pleasant than cleaning people's fireplaces as you go."
"Harry Potter, I presume?" the woman chuckled. "I'm Mhairi, and I'm afraid you'll have to endure another trip right away, before Dumbledore's people arrive to 'save' you."
"Hi Mhairi, nice to finally meet you," Harry gasped. "I'm sure I can live with another trip, now that I know it's for a good cause. Where to?"
"Albert Perks' office," Mhairi answered. "Better make it quick."
"Right," Harry murmured, and disappeared into the fireplace again, just before Mr. Weasley appeared from the one beside it, frantically looking for him.
"Good morning, Arthur," Mhairi greeted. "What brings you here this early on a Saturday?"
"Good morning, Mhairi. I'm just looking for someone, I thought would be here, but I seem to have been mistaken about that.
What brings you here?"
"Oh, just helping Albert out a bit. Now if you'll excuse me?" With that, she entered the floo and disappeared, smirking over the Order's predicament.
"Oh my," she sighed as she saw Harry still collecting himself on the floor in her husband's office. "Hasn't anybody cast the Floo-charm on you, Harry?"
"The what?"
"Hmm.. Obviously not, then," Mhairi dimpled.
"The Floo-charm, Harry. It keeps you off most of the soot in the system, and it helps keeping you upright when you exit. It's cast on children when they floo by themselves for the first time."
"I floo'd for the first time just before my second year, and nobody told me anything, except to throw powder in the fire, and to say where I wanted to go," he growled.
"Oh dear. It looks like we'll have a busy few weeks ahead of us then," Mhairi sighed. Then she perked (no pun intended) up: "We don't have time for those things now though. We have a Ministry to embarrass. Through the door there.." she pointed "...is a full set of new clothes for you. Get in there and get changed, so we can get this show on the road."
------
At two minutes to eight, much to the Minister's surprise and annoyance (after all, he thought he'd made sure that nobody informed the brat of the change in time and venue, before it would be too late), Harry appeared in Courtroom 10, impeccably dressed in an expensive dark suit under a forest green robe, complete with the Potter Family Coat of Arms on his chest, and his personal badge on his sleeve. Several of the older Wizengamot members eyed the Potter Arms approvingly, as it had been a long time since anybody had seen it worn. The approving glances quickly turned to raised eyebrows, as they took in the badge. Firstly because wearing a personal badge at all was akin to a declaration of emancipation, or at least a statement of intent, and secondly because the dragon and sword identified him as a warrior more than a scholar, even if they were actually meant as a recap of his personal history.
The raised eyebrows raised even higher when it became clear that Albert Perks, who was standing right beside him, hadn't just happened to arrive at the same time as Harry, but that he had arrived with him. This understanding brought on an amusing change to the Minister, who had merely scoffed at Harry when he came in. Now he was rapidly paling, and it seemed like he was looking for somewhere to hide. Somebody had given him faulty information, and the plan to render Potter harmless – and Dumbledore toothless - had begun to backfire spectacularly, even before the trial had started. The lad wasn't supposed to know anybody of any significance but Dumbledore, yet here he was with one of the most feared and respected young solicitors in Britain. Suddenly a quiet hearing in Madam Hopkirk's office seemed a much better idea. Just a pity, it was much too late to do anything about it...
At exactly 8 o'clock, Amelia Bones, Director of Magical Law Enforcement, ordered the doors closed, and got the proceedings underway.
"Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot. I hereby call to order for the case against Harry James Potter for..." her face took an unhealthy colour, and she screwed her monocle tighter into her eye as she turned to the Minister. "Would you care to explain this, Minister? A case of Underage Sorcery before the full Wizengamot? Just what are you trying to pull here?"
"Of course, Amelia," came the simpering voice of the toad-like woman sitting next to Fudge. "The accused already has several warnings for the same, and is a well known troublemaker. It was thought proven, that warnings from the Improper Use of Magic Office have had no effect at all, and since the accused has also been attempting to sow unrest with his preposterous claims, that the Dark Lord is back despite being dead for almost fourteen years, it is believed that his minor offences are just preludes to a bigger scheme, which we intend to prove here," the toad-woman finished with a look that was meant to be disdainful, but only succeeded in making her even more toad-like than before.
Madam Bones shook her head and groaned. "You've got to be joking!" She eyed Harry, and to her surprise found that he seemed to have trouble keeping laughter in. He obviously had something up his sleeve, so she decided to let the farce continue.
"Right.. The Ministry of Magic for the British Isles against Harry James Potter for Underage Sorcery, violation of the Statute of Secrecy, and attempt to dislodge the Government. Amelia Susan Bones, Director of Magical Law Enforcement, presiding. Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, will prosecute.
Who will speak for the accused?"
"Well, since nobody saw fit to inform me, that an informal hearing had been turned into a full trial, I haven't had a chance to think of a defence," Harry answered. "Luckily though, a good friend, who knows quite a bit about the incident in question, has volunteered to act as my counsellor, so Wizengamot member Albert Perks will speak in my defence," he finished.
"Objection!" came a loud voice from the doors. "As Mr. Potter's guardian, I refuse the counsel of Mr. Perks. I will speak for Mr. Potter myself," Albus Dumbledore stated, slightly out of breath. Apparently he hadn't believed the initial reports from Grimmauld Place, and so had had to hurry more than his elderly lungs appreciated.
Mr. Perks inwardly grinned like a madman. Dumbledore had just presented him with an opportunity to both move their bid for Sirius' freedom much closer than they'd dared hope for, and to tear some huge holes in Dumbledore's already tattered reputation. Both were chances that he would've paid good money for, and Dumbledore – the one, besides Fudge, whose head it was all going to rain down on – had gifted them both to him, free of charge! He couldn't believe his luck – or the arrogance of the old man, obviously still thinking that whatever he said would be automatically regarded as the gospel truth.
'Oh, well.. His loss.'
"That would've been your right, had you actually been Mr. Potter's guardian," he answered. "Since you haven't got any legal or magical authority over Mr. Potter, no matter how much you wish for it, and since you're not a member of this august body, no objection from you will have any effect in this case, Mr. Dumbledore." Mr. Perks fixed him with a glare. "But by all means stay and watch the proceedings, Sir. I may need to call upon you as a witness sooner or later." Dumbledore's jaw went slack with surprise that someone dared to question his claim, and he was building up for a rant, when he was headed off by Madam Bones.
"As Mr. Potter is underage, and since Mr. Perks is denying Mr. Dumbledore's claim of guardianship, I'm afraid we'll have to determine exactly who is Mr. Potter's guardian, before we can begin the trial," Madam Bones lectured. "We cannot allow a defence for an underage wizard to commence without approval from the guardian."
"With all due respect, Madam Director," Mr. Perks interrupted, "Mr. Potter is no longer considered magically underage." A murmur rose from the Wizengamot members at this.
"Silence!" Madam Bones banged her gavel. "Explain please," she asked in a stern tone. It was patently obvious, that the 'please' was only put in for courtesy. It was an order.
"Of course, Madam Director. You are no doubt familiar with Clause 2 of the Statutes of Conduct when employing the Wizengamot as a Court of Law, as approved and filed in 1829?"
"Yes, of course I am."
"Good! Then you'll no doubt agree with me, that since we don't know who Mr. Potter's magical guardian is at this time, said individual has not been notified, at least not in the capacity of magical guardian, as the Statute calls for, and as such, because the charges have already been read, Mr. Potter is considered of age in the Magical World, since an underage witch or wizard cannot be tried by the Wizengamot without their guardian, or guardian-approved counsel, present," Mr. Perks deduced, discreetly winking at Madam Bones, who'd had an increasingly hard time keeping her laughter in, as she caught on to the elaborate prank, Mr. Perks had played on the Ministry – or more correctly, on the Minister and his Senior Undersecretary.
"We will of course, in the name of fairness and justice, give Mr. Dumbledore every chance to prove his claim of guardianship. If you could be persuaded to swear him in, Madam Director, we'll start right away," he finished.
"An excellent idea," Madam Bones agreed. "Will Albus Dumbledore please step up to the witness' chair?" she ordered.
As Dumbledore did so, although he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, there was a minor disturbance at the door, and an Auror came over and passed Mr. Perks a wad of documents.
Once Dumbledore was seated and sworn, Mr. Perks opened fire: "Mr. Dumbledore, you claim to be Mr. Potter's guardian. On what do you base this claim?"
"I have acted as his legal and magical guardian since the day after James and Lily Potter were killed," he replied calmly.
"Very commendable, I'm sure. However, that's not what I asked, Mr. Dumbledore. I asked you what you base your claim on. Were you named Mr. Potter's guardian in his parents' will? Or has the named guardian, or guardians, signed their rights over to you? And whether it be one or the other, can you present the legal paperwork to prove your claim?" Dumbledore looked decidedly less calm now.
"The only papers stating James and Lily Potter's choice of guardian is their will. Alas it has been sealed, so there is no way of proving or disproving anything," Dumbledore hedged.
"Please, Mr. Dumbledore. Do you take the members of this august body for idiots? I am fully aware that the Potters' will is sealed, and I am just as fully aware that it was sealed by you, in your capacity as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Therefore we now have a couple of avenues open to us: Either Chief Warlock Wallace orders it unsealed, or the Minister and Director Bones order it unsealed as evidence in a criminal case, or we use the copy, the Potters left at Gringott's. Your decision, Mr. Dumbledore," Mr. Perks finished, his smile decidedly sharklike, as the trap closed around the centenarian.
"There can not be a copy of that will!" Dumbledore sputtered. "That's impossible. I was a witness!"
"I assure you, Mr. Dumbledore, that there is a will at Gringott's that is a confirmed and certified copy of the one you sealed, whatever reason you thought you had for doing that."
"I order a fifteen minute recess, as Court Scribe Weasley produce the Potter Family files, including the sealed will," Madam Bones broke in. "Mr. Weasley, if you please."
During the recess, Mr. Perks looked over the documents, he'd been given, and then – with a very satisfied expression on his face – leaned in and whispered to Harry, that the Dursleys had signed legal custody over to himself for 2000 Pounds. Another weapon to bring to bear on Dumbledore – who spent the recess trying to catch Harry's attention, but didn't have much luck with it, as Harry studiously ignored him.
"This Court is now in session," Madam Bones' voice rang out after the break. "The first order of business is to determine the magical status of the accused. Mr. Weasley, have you produced the Potter Family files, including the last will of James and Lily Potter?"
"I have, Madam Director," Percy answered respectfully.
"Thank you, Mr. Weasley. You may return to your duties as Scribe," Madam Bones said.
"Chief Warlock Wallace, will you authorize the opening of the sealed will of James and Lily Potter?"
"I authorize it," the imposing Scot rumbled, looking at Dumbledore with undisguised contempt.
"Thank you, Chief Warlock." Madam Bones broke the seal. "As the purpose of unsealing this will is to determine Mr. Potter's magical status, I will only read the guardian stipulation at this time," she informed the Court, "although there will be a complete reading before a tribunal as soon as possible, as I can already now see that both word and intent of this document has been severely violated," she warned with a piercing glare at Dumbledore. "In accordance with the wishes of Mr. Potter's parents, Mr. Potter's guardian is his godfather, Sirius Orion Black."
Ten seconds of vigorous banging the gavel later, the common outcry was down to a manageable level.
"Mr. Weasley, does the files contain any documents divesting Sirius Black of his guardiansip?"
Percy rummaged through the documents before him. "No Madam Director," he answered. "There is a document transferring legal custody to a Petunia Dursley, signed by Albus Dumbledore, but nothing pertaining magical guardianship, and nothing mentioning Sirius Black."
"I wonder how nobody thought of this, when he was sent to Azkaban," Madam Bones mused. "A most regretable oversight, for which the Ministry will officially apologize as soon as possible."
"I don't think it's an oversight, Madam Director, but that's for later," Mr. Perks quipped.
"Is that so?" Madam Bones' eyebrow disappeared into her hairline. "This might just be a decent day after all." She coughed once, straightened in her chair, and screwed her monocle firmer into place.
"Having perused the accessible documents, the Court rules that Harry James Potter's magical guardian was not notified that his charge was to be tried. Since the trial began without the accused's guardian, or his representative, being present, Harry James Potter is from this day considered of age in the Wizarding World, with all privileges and duties that this entails." The bang of the gavel sounded very final.
Dumbledore looked sick!
"Now," Madam Bones continued, "I believe we can get on with what we've been called here for. The Ministry of Magic for the British Isles against Harry James Potter for Underage Sorcery, violation of the Statute of Secrecy, and attempt to dislodge the Government. Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, will prosecute; Albert Caspian Perks, member of the Wizengamot, will counsel the accused.
Mr. Potter, to the charge of Underage Sorcery, how do you plea?"
"Guilty, but exempt from punishment under Clause Seven of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, Ma'am." Hushed conversations started all over the room immediately.
"So noted. To the charge of violation of the Statute of Secrecy, how do you plea?"
"Not guilty, Ma'am."
"So noted. To the charge of attempting to dislodge the Government, how do you plea?"
"Not guilty, Ma'am."
"So noted." Madam Bones sighed. "Madam Undersecretary, you may begin your procedure, but kindly restrict yourself to the first of the three charges, please."
"Thank you, Amelia," the toad-woman simpered. "Err.. Madam Director," she hurriedly corrected herself, after a stern glare from Madam Bones.
Flustered, she tried to collect herself, and at the same time leveled an attempt at a withering glare at Harry. "I assume, you are not in fact familiar with the full text of Clause Seven, Mr. Potter?"
"Of course I am familiar with the text of the Clause, Madam Undersecretary. Otherwise I couldn't base my plea on it, could I now?" Harry sniped.
"Then why don't you tell the Court, what you want us to believe excuses your blatant violation of Magical Law, Mr. Potter?" Madam Umbridge asked in a fake, saccharine voice.
"Of course, Madam Undersecretary. I used magic in the evening of the second day of this month, in order to defend myself and my magic-aware Muggle cousin from an attack by two Dementors. As it was in defence of lives, Clause Seven grants me exemption from the Decree," Harry answered smugly.
"So you admit to using magic in front of a Muggle, Mr. Potter?"
"I do believe I just said that, Madam Undersecretary."
"...And you claim that you used it against two Dementors? I'm sorry to tell you, Mr. Potter, that you should have constructed a better lie for your defence. All Dementors are under Ministry control in Azkaban, so you couldn't possibly have encountered two in Surrey ten days ago."
"Madam Director," Mr. Perks interjected. "As this now looks like a conspiracy by someone in the Ministry to get Mr. Potter killed, I'd like a word please."
"That is a very serious accusation, Mr. Perks. Come forward, please."
"No need, Madam Director. I can take it from where I'm seated.
Madam Umbridge is very emphatic in her claim, that all Dementors are under Ministry control. I'd like to ask the Minister, if he is as sure?"
"Minister, your answer, please."
"I am absolutely certain that all Dementors are under our control, Mr. Perks. There is no way, Mr. Potter could have met any, unless he went to Azkaban," the Minister stated in his usual, pompous way.
"Thank you, Minister," Mr. Perks answered. "Madam Director, on behalf of Mr. Potter, I ask if we could have a witness Pensieve brought in, so Mr. Potter can prove without any doubt, that he and his cousin were attacked by Dementors ten days ago."
"Granted," Madam Bones replied. "Mr. Weasley, please see to it that a witness Pensieve is brought here. In the meantime we'll take a ten minute recess."
Ten minutes later, the ever efficient Percy Weasley had produced the requested Pensieve, and Harry, after he'd been told how to, had placed the memory of the fateful night in the bowl.
"Just a minute," Umbridge bleated. "How do we know, the boy hasn't put some random memory in there?"
'Someone is getting nervous', Harry thought, as Mr. Perks leaned over and whispered in his ear.
Harry lifted his wand. "This is the memory of what happened to my cousin and me, in the evening of the second of August this year. On my magic I so swear!" Harry flashed briefly, then smirked at the toad-woman as he lit his wand-tip.
After the memory had played out, the silence in the chamber was deafening. Most of the Wizengamot members had actually wanted to believe Umbridge, Rita Skeeter, and the Minister, that Harry was just an attention-seeking brat who was drunk on his own fame, but they'd all seen what happened, right in front of them. It begged an explanation as to just how two Dementors had found their way to Surrey, and who had let them go there. That aside, the fact that a mere boy, with only four years of magical education, had successfully cast a fully corporeal Patronus – something only a small percentage of adult witches and wizards could - had most of the esteemed members completely stumped.
"Madam Director," Mr. Perks began. "I believe the memory we've just seen, places Mr. Potter's actions firmly in the area covered by Clause Seven. I also believe it proves that Mr. Potter is not guilty of violation of the Statute of Secrecy, as we've just seen that the only Muggle in the area was Mr. Potter's cousin, who is registered as being aware of magic.
Now, I leveled an accusation before the recess, and I am going to clarify my thoughts: We have the assurances of Minister Fudge, as well as his Senior Undersecretary, that all Dementors are firmly under Ministry control. However, we have just seen that two Dementors were in fact in Little Whinging ten days ago, so unless the Minister and his Undersecretary are in fact lying to us, somebody in the Ministry's ranks sent them, and frankly, there were no other targets in Little Whinging on that day – or any other days – so unless we are being blatantly lied to, somebody in the Ministry tried to kill Mr. Potter!
My question, since I can't believe that two respected senior officials of the Ministry would lie to us, is this: Who has the authority to order the transfer of Dementors?"
A murmur broke out, and it increased in volume rather quickly.
"Merlin's Beard!" Madam Bones breathed, as she turned to Fudge and Umbridge. "Only the Minister, or his Senior Undersecretary, or I can order Dementors transferred! So that's why you attempted to railroad Mr. Potter, wasn't it?"
An indignant sputter from the Minister, and a strangled whimper from a rapidly paling Umbridge was all the answer she got.
"Mr. Weasley," Madam Bones commanded. "Get all records pertaining to the Dementors from as far back as mid-June this year. Aurors, detain the Minister and the Senior Undersecretary in here," she barked. "This Court is in recess until the Court Scribe is back with the requested documents."
Fourteen minutes later, former Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, Dolores Umbridge, was placed in a holding cell, awaiting an in-depth questioning under Veritaserum, and the Wizengamot was in uproar. Withering glares and outraged comments were being sent at the Minister, and Madam Bones did the only thing she could, after some serious gavel-banging:
"Order in the Court," she cried – several times. "After this startling revelation, I believe we all could do with some sustenance, and some time to calm ourselves. We will take a one-and-a-half hour break before we continue with the third – and most serious – charge against Mr. Potter." Her gaze swept the chamber, and found only agreeable miens. "This Court is adjourned for an hour and a half. All dismissed, but please stay within the Ministry's premises."
----------
During the break, Harry And Mr. Perks chatted about several things while they devoured their lunch. Mr. Perks explained how he knew beforehand, that Fudge was up to no good with the 'hearing': "Come on, Harry, you're brighter than this. Do you really think that a normal hearing would be called on a Saturday? No, lad, the date proves that Fudge was always going to attempt a railroad job with you. Calling all these self-important gits in on a Saturday was supposed to ensure, they were hostile towards you from the start. However, now they'll all be calling for his arse on a platter, and I won't be surprised if he's kicked out during the next Wizengamot session this Wednesday. I'll also not be surprised if a few people will want your recommendation on who's to replace him." Harry looked stunned.
"But... Why would anybody care what I think about that? I'm fifteen, for Merlin's sake. I'm just a student."
"You're also The-Boy-Who's-Name-Is-Disregarded-In-Favour-Of-Hyphenated-Nonsense-Which-Must-Be-Capitalized, Harry." Harry groaned. "After the campaign against you by Fudge and the Prophet, a lot of people will try to do a lot of smarming up to you."
"A good deduction, Albert," a deep voice rumbled in a thick, Scottish brogue, just behind Harry.
Harry spun in his chair, only to look straight into a red tartan. As he refocused his view to take in a little more, he saw that the red tartan was a kilt, and that the kilt contained a huge, red-bearded wizard - probably the biggest man he'd ever seen, bar Hagrid. Looking closer, Harry recognized Chief Warlock Wallace, who'd taken over Dumbledore's position a few weeks before, when the Old Goat was kicked out of his seat.
Mr. Perks rose and shook the big man's hand, before turning to Harry to make the introduction.
"Calum, this is Harry Potter, as of a few hours ago the Patriarch of the Potter Family. Harry, this is Calum Wallace, Chief Warlock, Laird of Clan Wallace, and Mhairi's Family Patriarch."
"Pleased to meet you, Sir," Harry said, as his hand disappeared into the depths of the bear-like man's palm.
"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Potter," the big Scot rumbled. "Several of the Clan's daughters have sung your praise for the last four years, so I'm pleased to finally get the chance to meet you and see for myself," he grinned.
"On another note, I agree with Albert's thoughts on what will happen, Mr. Potter. I think you'd better reserve some time to think about Ministerial issues over the next few days, because you'll be swamped with calls for your opinion, as well as offers of just about anything for your support."
Harry hid his face in his hands. "What did I ever do to deserve this?" he asked noone in particular. "All I ever wanted was to be allowed to just be Harry, and maybe spend some quiet time with my girlfriend. I don't want any of this."
The Chief Warlock let out a booming laugh. "I like your outlook, lad. Keep that up, and you'll be fine," he said, as he turned to leave. "Talk things through with Albert, and whoever else you have available, then get in touch with me, and we'll see if we can find some common ground." He shifted his focus to Mr. Perks. "Good job so far, Albert. I'm looking forward to seeing what else you have in store for us."
As the Chief Warlock left them, Harry tried to digest what he'd just been told. A lot of it baffled him, not least that anyone would think that a mere fifteen year-old could have a say in replacing the Minister. He also tried to make sense of Umbridge actually noting her murder-attempt in the Ministerial logs!
"Mr. Perks..."
"Please, Harry, call me Albert. You're an adult now, at least magically, and if you still want me for your magical guardian, you should call me by my first name. After all, you don't call Sirius 'Mr. Black', do you?"
"Sorry?" Harry was even more puzzled now. "Do I still need a guardian? I thought I'd been declared of age..."
"No you don't, Harry," Mr. Perks hurried to explain. "However, since you're Muggle raised, not to mention still two years from being seventeen, you choosing a magical guardian will definitely win you points with the neutral conservatives in the chamber, especially when you explain that you want a guardian to teach you about wizarding culture and traditions, which Dumbledore apparently neglected."
"Ah," Harry's smile took a feral quality. "And it's safe to say, that going on record with that will put Dumble's brownie-account in the negative, right?"
"There is that," Mr. Perks answered, as if he'd never thought of that. "To be frank, there's another reason as well, Harry. It removes the risk of Dumbledore finding some obscure, 800 year-old loophole, that's only been used once the day after it was passed. He's an expert on those things, if he thinks he can benefit in any way.
Anyway, you wanted to ask me something?"
"Yeah.. I wondered... What on Earth possessed Umbridge to record attempted murder in the Dementors' Log?"
"Well, she is – at least in theory – the ultimate Ministry employee. She firmly believes that the Minister's word is law, so she probably heard him mutter something about silencing you, then decided to make sure it happened. As the true Ministerial professional she is, she of course filled out the required paperwork, and since she's the one in charge of those particular files, she would've gotten away with it, if not for the files being opened at a trial."
Harry's eyes grew wide. "You're kidding, right? Not only could she be that stupid, but the rules of this place are stupid enough to let her pull it off? Please tell me, it's a joke!"
"I'm sorry, but no.. It's no joke, which is why I think you should do what Calum recommended you do... Spend some time thinking about who you'd like to run this place, then make sure your choice is made public by Wednesday morning at the latest. No matter what you may think of it, you're in a position to make a difference, Harry. Actually, once you've been acquitted here, you'll find that you're one of the most influential wizards in this country."
Harry's forehead hit the table with a thud. "I don't believe how backwards this world is," he groaned. "So many people with this wonderful ability, and not one in 100 has any measure of common sense to go with it," he shook his head slowly.
Mr. Perks snickered. "Look at the bright side, Harry," he said. "You can demand something for your support. How about actual libel laws, and some kind of press-responsibility act? With how Skeeter treated you this year, I'd think that would be something you'd like to see."
"Yeah, I would, but it's still bloody backwards," Harry grumbled.
"Relax Harry... Once we get you cleared, we'll take the time and talk this through with Iain and the Ladies. First priority is to finish this though, and then see if we can sneak Sirius through."
"Right. Do you think you can get Madam Bones to seal the chamber?"
"I might, if I have a good enough reason. Why though?"
"Do you remember the names I gave you? The Death Eaters who showed up at the graveyard, I mean?"
"Damn! I'd all but forgotten about that. There are at least three of them here today, and you said there were some you didn't know?"
"Yeah, and I think I've seen one of them here as well. Maybe a few more Aurors in there would be a wise precaution, too..."
"Good thinking! I'll get right on it."
----------
Madam Bones banged her gavel. "Order, please. This Court is now in session. After the somewhat unexpected incarceration of our prosecutor, Chief Warlock Wallace should be taking over this duty, but since nobody but Dolores Umbridge and Minister Fudge have any idea, what the charge is based on, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic for the British Isles, will prosecute.
Minister Fudge, if you please.."
"Yes, thank you, Madam Director," the Minister blustered. "Mr. Potter, have you or have you not claimed, that he-who-must-not-be-named has returned?"
"I have not, Minister. I have told several people, including you, that the dark wizard known as Voldemort regained a body in a dark ritual on the 24th of June this year, after having abducted me from the Hogwarts grounds during the third task of the Triwizard Tournament." Harry shook his head at the numerous flinches, shudders, and protests from all corners of the chamber.
"There you have it, Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot," Fudge declared triumphantly. "The accused admits to attempting to sow unrest by maliciously claiming a threat that does not exist!"
"On the contrary, Minister," Harry persevered. "I am trying to help people prepare themselves for a very real threat, since it is obvious that the Minister prefers to leave his delusions intact, rather than face the monster that is threatening us all."
"Outrageous!" Fudge stormed. "The accused is clearly delusional. He-who-must-not-be-named has been dead for almost fourteen years, and no amount of juvenile fantasies can change that. I ask that he is given the harshest punisment, the law allows for, for this thinly veiled attempt at a coup."
"Objection!" Mr. Perks' voice rang out. "No matter how secure Minister Fudge feels in his delusions, there is a quick and easy way to prove Mr. Potter's claim. I request the use of the witness Pensieve once more, Madam Director."
"Request granted," Madam Bones ruled. "Scribe Weasley, if you please."
"Objection!" a new voice called from the chamber. "I have better things to do than to sit here and listen to this obnoxious brat's inane ramblings about long dead wizards," the voice continued. "I demand an end to this farce immediately!"
"Is that so, Member Malfoy?" Madam Bones almost purred, although her tone of voice didn't really convey any feeling of contentment. "You didn't seem to have any problems spending your time here, when it looked a certainty that Mr. Potter would be railroaded to Azkaban, but now that he is offering to provide proof that your former master is indeed back, you are suddenly busy?" Her voice cut into more than one member in the chamber. "I find that.... interesting..."
"I resent what you are trying to intimate here, Madam Director," Lucius Malfoy fumed. "I demand an apology, and I demand that we be let out of here at once!"
"You will be let out when I say we've finished, Member Malfoy. Until that moment, paying attention to these proceedings is one of the duties, you are sworn to perform as part of your membership of this august body. If these duties represent so much of a problem for you, you have the right to give up your seat once we have dealt with any other business for this session." The Director delivered her diatribe in a frigid, dangerous voice. "No matter what your choice, Member Malfoy, you are obligated to sit this session, and if you disturb the proceedings with another inane demand, you will be fined. Am I in any way unclear, Member Malfoy?"
"You are very clear, Madam Director," Lucius answered in a defeated tone.
'Damn!' Harry thought in awe. 'Whatever you do, Potter, never piss off Amelia Bones!'
"Check and mate," Mr. Perks murmured beside him. "Never get on her bad side, Harry. It's not a healthy place to be."
Harry gave a wry smile. "No kidding," he murmured back. "But when you're sitting at a safe distance, watching those who get on that side of her is actually great fun."
"That it is, Harry, that it is," Mr. Perks chuckled.
"Here comes Weasley. Are you ready with the memory?"
"Yeah, it's not like it's hidden all that deep down..." Mr. Perks reached over to grip Harry's shoulder.
"It'll bring a lot of those scum down now, Harry. Fudge will be out of here before they're taken to court, so don't doubt they'll get what's coming to them this time, lad. Amelia and Calum will see to that."
Twenty minutes later, when Harry's memory of Voldemort's rebirth had played out, Fitzroy Avery, Theobald Nott, Walden Macnair, Herbert Crabbe, and Lucius Malfoy were lying on the floor, stunned and bound, awaiting removal to holding cells, and Peter Pettigrew, Honorius Yaxley, Sebastian Goyle, and Julius Flint were all wanted for immediate questioning. After the viewing of Barty Crouch Jr.'s interrogation, and Minister Fudge's reactions to that – as well as to Harry's story, the Wizengamot was in an uproar, Cornelius Fudge's days as Minister were numbered (5), and Albert Perks was having the time of his life.
"Order in the Court!" Madam Bones barked, as she vigorously banged her gavel. "Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot, please show a modicum of dignity, or I will have the Aurors clear the chamber."
Her threats did have enough effect to actually make simple thinking possible again, but not much more. Apparently she decided to lower her standards significantly, since she chose to go on with the procedure.
"Minister Fudge," she adressed the Minister frostily, "do you have anything to add to your prosecution?"
It was an utterly pointless question, in that everybody in the chamber were well aware that the whole case was shot, but it had to be asked in order to satisfy requirements.
"No, Madam Director, I have nothing further," a pale and defeated Minister answered. Cornelius Fudge was under no illusions that he could survive this disaster politically, if at all.
"Then I hereby declare the procecution closed, and I ask that the Jurors convene in the antechamber fortwith," Madam Bones declared with finality.
Harry watched with interest, as eight people moved towards a door in the back of the chamber. Mr. Perks told him that five of them were neutral conservatives, and the three others were low-key supporters of the pureblood bigots' cause, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Avery, Nott, Crabbe, and Malfoy were supposed to be there as well, to complete the dozen, and to ensure the seven votes needed for a conviction. It was a bit scary, that Malfoy had apparently had so much control of the Ministry, he'd been able to tailor a jury to meet his – or Voldemort's – needs, and nobody had questioned it.
Harry began seriously reevaluating his long term plans right there and then.
As it turned out, he had plenty of time for his musings. The general noise-level in the chamber rose little by little, as the signed and sealed acquittal looked less and less sealed as the minutes ticked away, and several people, most notably the Minister, as well as a few of those, Mr. Perks had pointed out as conservative – not to say dark – members, looked more and more relieved as the time passed without a verdict.
Just as Harry was about to say something about the time taken, the Jurors finally came back in, but he couldn't discern anything from the looks on their faces, as they varied from smiles to deep scowls. He just couldn't figure out if the smiles were bad guys who were happy, he'd been convicted, or if they were good guys who were happy, he'd been aquitted. 'Oh, well.. It'll be revealed soon enough...'
"Order in the Court!" Madam Bones barked.
"Gentlemen Jurors, have you reached a conclusion?"
"We have, Madam Director," a wizard looking older than Dumbledore answered. Mr. Perks identified him as Tiberius Ogden, founder and owner of Ogden's Finest, and a lifetime electee member of the Wizengamot, unlike Mr. Perks himself, who was elected for a 5-year period.
"On the charge of Underage Sorcery, with six votes for, and two votes against, we find Mr. Potter guilty as charged, but exempt from punishment under Clause Seven of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, Madam Director."
"So noted, Member Ogden. Please continue."
"On the charge of Violation of the Statute of Secrecy, with six votes for, and two votes against, we find Mr. Potter not guilty, Madam Director."
"This is noted. Please continue, Member Ogden."
"On the charge of Attempting to dislodge the Government, with six votes for, and two votes against, we find Mr. Potter not guilty, Madam Director."
"This is noted, Member Ogden. Thank you for your efforts, Gentlemen. You may return to your seats."
Harry was stunned! Two votes against on every charge, despite Pensieve evidence that cleared him completely, and nobody as much as batted an eyelid! Harry now seriously considered building himself another future. A future that didn't include anything to do with Britain, or the Ministry of Magic for the British Isles.
Mr. Perks noticed Harry clenching and unclenching his hands, and reached over to grab his arm. "Relax, Harry. We got you off the hook, that's what this was all about. I know why you're mad, and that's one of the things we're going to talk about this next week, but you've got to stay calm now," he whispered.
"Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot," Madam Bones intoned. "By the votes of the Jurors, mr. Potter is cleared of all charges, and is free to go. Mr. Potter, please accept the Wizengamot's sincere apologies for the inconvenience this have cost you. This case is closed." A bang of the gavel followed this statement. "Does anybody have any business to bring before the Wizengamot?" she asked.
Harry rose. "I have a couple of points, Madam Director," he said respectfully. "As I'm now considered of age, I'm left without a magical guardian, and since Mr. Dumbledore has gone to great lengths to keep me ignorant of Wizarding culture, as well as the general day to day workings of our community, I'm woefully ill equipped to deal with many of the responsibilities I'm now facing." He took a couple of breaths. "Since my parents' choice of guardian is currently on the run, he is not an option, but I need to learn as much as I possibly can about our society, so I therefore ask the Wizengamot to confirm Albert Perks as my magical guardian, seeing that he already holds my legal guardianship."
Cries of disbelief met Harry's words.
"Order!" Madam Bones barked. "Please explain, Mr. Potter. Scribe Weasley told us that your legal guardian is a Petunia Dursley, and now you say that Mr. Perks holds legal custody. I'd like to know how you reach that conclusion?"
Harry rose again. "Director Bones, Witches and Wizards. I was placed in the dubious care of Petunia Dursley – my maternal aunt – by way of Albus Dumbledore dumping me on her doorstep, the day after my parents were killed, supposedly because Mr. Dumbledore had cast a unique set of illegal blood wards, based on my mother's sacrifice, on their property. I grew up there as an unloved, unwanted burden on the family, starved, abused, beaten, and forced to function more or less as their House Elf. Until I recieved my Hogwarts letter, my room was a cupboard under the staircase, and I didn't know about magic at all. This was all – according to Mr. Dumbledore – in order to protect me from the Dark Lord's followers who wished me harm, since it is popular belief that I defeated their Master..."
"Excuse me, Mr. Potter, but your defeat of the Dark Lord is fairly well documented," Madam Bones interrupted.
"How can it be, Madam Director?" Harry inquired. "As I understand it, only I and the wraith of the Dark Lord escaped death that night. I'm fairly certain, Voldemort hasn't given an interview about what happened, and I know for sure that I haven't, so how can the happenings of that night be well documented?"
Stunned silence greeted his words.
"No, Madam Director. Nobody but Voldemort knows what happened that night, since I don't remember anything but my mother begging him for my life, and this brings up some intriguing questions." Harry steeled himself, and at Mr. Perks' nod, he rolled forward.
"First of all, Mr. Dumbledore violated my parents' will, in order to secure my illegal placement in an abusive environment, and nobody objected. Why is that?
Secondly, he claims it was done for my protection, but since nobody knows what actually happened, why did I need protection?
Thirdly, when nobody knows what happened, and with Mr. Dumbledore – at least according to himself– doing everything to protect me, how come the story of little Harry Potter's defeat of the Big Bad Dark Lord was all over Magical Britain within 24 hours, painting a very large target on my back? And since only Mr. Dumbledore himself, Minerva McGonagall, and Rubeus Hagrid had seen the scar on my forehead, how come it's described in amazing detail in each and every fictive – not to mention illegal – story written about me, making me easier recognizable than almost anybody else, save Alastor Moody?
Lastly, if I really needed protection that badly, why was I kept ignorant of magic until I got my Hogwarts letter? Why wasn't I given training to at least the level that most children from magical families are at when they start school? As it was, I was basically a sitting duck for all my first year."
"I... I can't give you any satisfying answer, Mr. Potter, but rest assured, these questions will be investigated. I give you my word on that," Madam Bones shakily answered.
"Thank you, Madam Director, I appreciate that." Harry sketched a bow, then shot a look in the direction of a nauseous looking Dumbledore.
"Now, to get back to your initial question. I know Mr. Perks is my legal guardian, because the loving family, Mr. Dumbledore dumped me with, sold their custody this morning, to a man they don't know, and whom they've never met, for the paltry sum of 2000 Pounds. For those unaware of the exchange rate, that's 400 Galleons." A storm of outrage rose in the chamber, as Harry turned to pin Dumbledore with a look of utter contempt.
"400 Galleons, old man. That's all it took to render your impenetrable defenses void. Just my luck that Mr. Perks had the idea before Voldemort. Ten years of sheer Hell, and anybody could've pulled me out of there at any time, and for any reason. Do you feel good about yourself? Do you sleep well at night?" Then he turned to Madam Bones.
"Madam Director, I'm not aware of the proper procedure for these things, but I ask that charges to be leveled against Mr. Dumbledore for kidnapping, child endangerment, criminal neglect, violation of a magical will, fraud, and interference with magical mail for starters." A series of gasps and outbursts of 'no!' were heard. "And let me just finish as I started, by asking the Wizengamot to confirm Albert Perks as my magical guardian, thank you." With this, Harry sat back down, and it was clear for all to see, that he had to work hard to keep his composure. It gained him quite a lot of credit with the neutrals, that he actually succeeded.
"Order!" Madam Bones cried out for what seemed like the 100th time. "Mr. Perks, do you have any documentation to back up Mr. Potters claim?"
Mr. Perks rose. "I have, Madam Director. If I may?" he took a tentative step towards the dais.
"By all means, Mr. Perks. Please come forward." He approached, and the documents changed hands.
"These documents does in fact confirm Albert Perks as Mr. Potters legal guardian as of this morning," Madam Bones informed the chamber. "Bearing in mind that Mr. Potter technically doesn't require a magical guardian, I see no problem in granting his wish. Any objections?" Her gaze swept the chamber.
"Court Scribe, please note that by Mr. Potter's own choice, Albert Caspian Perks has been confirmed as Mr. Potter's magical guardian," she looked out at the chamber again. "Any other items of business?"
"One more thing, Madam Director," Mr. Perks ventured.
"Yes Mr. Perks?"
"In Mr. Potter's memory of the Dark Lord's resurrection, we all saw Peter Pettigrew alive, if not too well. It is my understanding that killing him was part of what landed Sirius Black in Azkaban, and we've all seen now that he didn't. In my opinion, this begs for a trial for Mr. Black, since something about his incarceration clearly wasn't right."
"He may not be guilty of murdering Mr. Pettigrew – alright, he clearly isn't guilty of that – but he was convicted of murdering a dozen Muggles as well, not to mention betraying James and Lily Potter to the Dark Lord," Madam Bones answered.
"Was he?" Mr. Perks asked. "I'd very much like to see the transcript from the trial then. Mr. Potter has told me a fascinating story about meeting Mr. Black and getting his side of what happened, and that side doesn't correspond even remotely with the official one. Perhaps we can have the transcript picked up, while Mr. Potter shows us his memory of his meeting with Mr. Black?"
'This could get really interesting', Madam Bones thought. 'Albert wouldn't do something like this unless he was absolutely certain. I'm glad I was in St. Mungo's when they shipped Black off. This could get painful for someone'.
"That would be acceptable. Scribe Weasley, could you please fetch the transcripts of Sirius Black's trial? In the meantime, we will watch Mr. Potter's memory."
Once again the Wizengamot chamber experienced stunned disbelief, as Harry's memory ended. Very quickly though, the silence was replaced with outraged demands for the Minister's head on a platter, after he'd once again demonstrated mindnumbing incompetency on top of his usual arrogance.
Dumbledore's uppermost extremity was in high demand, too. While the Minister was wilting under the onslaught, Percy had made his way up to Madam Bones, empty handed.
"Madam Director, I was unable to locate the transcripts, and when I double checked with the court dates for the last two months of 1981, there was no mention of a trial against Sirius Black. I'm sorry, Ma'am."
"Order!" Madam Bones' now very familiar battle-cry rang out. "Mr. Perks, I'm sorry to say that Scribe Weasley has been unable to locate the transcripts, and when he double checked, he couldn't find the trial in the protocols either." She narrowed her eyes at him, an impressive feat when one eye is held open by a monocle. "Do you perchance know something, I don't?"
"I'm sorry, Madam Director, but we had to do it like this, otherwise noone would have believed us." Mr. Perks had the decency to look contrite. "I do in fact know, that Sirius Black was never given a trial. He was never even interrogated! He was just stunned, bound, and shipped off to Azkaban there and then, courtesy of Albus Dumbledore, Bartemius Crouch, Millicent Bagnold, and Cornelius Fudge."
Pandemonium reigned in the chamber.
----------
"Well, that was fun," an exhausted and exasperated Harry quipped sarcastically two hours later, as he and Mr. Perks were making their way through the Ministry, after having summoned Dobby to go to Grimmauld Place and get Sirius out of there, before Dumbledore could get a hold of him. "Anyways, where are we going? I thought we were going to floo from your office..."
"We'll floo from whereever it's most convenient, Harry, but we're not done here yet. We're going to the Department of Mysteries, to see their Master Healer about your scar. Something isn't right about it."
"Oh.. Alright. But, please, tell me about these things before you just make me do them, OK?", Harry asked.
"Right. I'm sorry, Harry. It must have slipped my mind at some stage," Mr. Perks said contritely.
"It's OK. I just don't like being moved around without knowing why. Bad experiences with that..." Harry trailed off.
Mr. Perks looked uncomfortable. "I'll try to remember that, Harry." They went on in silence.
"We're here," Mr. Perks finally said, as they stood by a featureless door.
"Hmm.. These people like their privacy," Harry mused. "There's nothing here to tell what's inside."
"Yeah," Mr. Perks agreed. "They have the philosophy, that if you don't know where to go, you don't have any business being here anyway."
"Smart people," Harry stated. "I didn't know there were any of those in the Ministry at all, 'cept for Madam Bones."
Mr. Perks quirked a smile. "There are a precious few, Harry, and I'll try to tell you about them all before Wednesday. They're all nice to know, and even better if they're friends."
"I'll keep that in mind. I still think this whole thing's a bloody joke, though."
A tall form in a drab, grayish robe approached them.
"Welcome to our little hideaway, Mr. Potter. We've been expecting you for a year now."
"Excuse me?"
"The Prophecy, Mr. Potter. The one you were informed of a year ago. We've expected you to come by to hear it ever since."
"What Prophecy? I haven't heard a thing about any prophecy."
"You were informed by owl on your fourteenth birthday, Mr. Potter, and we recieved an answer that you would try to make time to come here."
"...."
Three...
Two...
One...
Ignition...
"DUMBLEDORE! THAT GODDAMNED GOATBUGGERING SON OF A SYPHILISTIC FLOBBERWORM!" Harry detonated, wild magic warping the air around him. "If it wasn't because he'd probably like it, I'd shove a bowl of lemon drops so far up his arse, he'd choke to death on it!" He made a highly visible effort to calm himself down to the normal temperature of liquid lava.
"Sir, we'll need your testimony, or that of someone from your department who knows about this, when Albus Dumbledore is going on trial," he said, turning to the Unspeakable. "I have never recieved anything whatsoever from this department, and I have certainly never written anything in response to what I've never recieved," he ground out through clenched teeth. "But by all means, let's go and listen to this Prophecy, since we're here anyway. Maybe it'll supply some answers."
----------
An hour later, having visited the Hall of Prophecy, as well as the department's Master Healer, a dazed and highly confused Harry was led to a Floo-connection by an incensed Albert Perks. The Prophecy had indeed supplied some answers, and none of them were good. Even worse was the Master Healer's interpretation of the scan, she'd performed on Harry's scar. It basically consisted of a quick explanation of what she'd found, what to do about it, and what the results should be, followed by fifteen minutes of ranting and swearing about overly self-confident and senile old men, and their willingness to take their own shoddy guesswork as gospel. In short – if the scan had been performed, and acted upon, soon after Voldemort's demise, Harry would've been scar-free, and Voldemort would've been gone for good a long time ago. That would definitely be added to the charges against St. Dumbasadoor!
"I'm having a really hard time believing all this," Harry murmured. "I mean, I kinda knew already that Dumble isn't what he wants people to think he is, but the only two things that can make all the pieces fit, is that either he actually wants me dead, or he's so senile, he should've been in St. Mungo's more than twenty years ago. Or it could be a combination..."
"The Dark Lord Dumbledore," Mr. Perks grumbled. "He's so convinced of his own greatness, he doesn't care how many have to die, and how many lives he destroys, to prove him right in his own mind."
A klaxon suddenly made a lot of noise in the back of Harry mind. "The Dark Lord Dumbledore! Could the Prophecy – if it's for real – actually be about him? It would explain a lot," he wondered. "Nah, he would've just killed me when he had the chance."
"Maybe we'll know one day, Harry. For now, let's just get out of here. I believe there are some people waiting for us." With the casual ease of long practice, Mr. Perks weaved in and out through the labyrinth of corridors, skillfully avoiding press, backslappers, and wellwishers alike, until they finally reached an office with a floo-connection. "This is restricted, Harry, so we'll floo to my office first, then to Blacket House. Off we go."
----------
Harry was still marveling at the unusual feat that was two consecutive journeys through the Floo without landing arse over teakettle, as he took in his surroundings.
The parlor he'd arrived in was definitely designed to impress, even if it wasn't a grand room as such. Actually it wasn't much bigger than the average entrance hall, but a lot of thought had gone into the decorations, and the carved ceiling was nothing short of magnificent.
He startled as Mr. Perks arrived just beside him, and a faint flush crept up as he – finally – caught sight of the line of people standing along the far wall, each wearing their own amused expression.
Mr. Perks cleared his throat. "I see we were expected. I wonder why.
Harry, you know Sirius of course, so we'll just pretend he's not here, if we ever get that chance." Several dramatic sighs, and a few coughs erupted from the line.
"We need to talk, Harry," Sirius said. "I've got a few axes to grind with you, as well as a laugh or two to share."
"We all need to talk, Padfoot," Harry replied, "but I'd prefer if it doesn't have to be today."
"Sure, Pup. I can hold back on most of it."
Mr. Perks continued. "Next to Sirius, we have Mhairi, who you've met too."
"Thanks for helping me out, Mhairi. I can't tell you how much it means."
"You're welcome, Harry."
They continued to a slender, blond woman, who stood next to a tall, balding man. Both looked a few years older than Sirius. "Next in line is my sister, Eliza, and her husband, Iain, who is the owner of this place, and who you know better as Fergus MacRae."
"Pleased to finally meet you," Harry said as he shook hands with Eliza. "And nice to see the real Iain," he continued with a wink.
Next in line were two girls who looked a lot alike, except for the difference in height. The first was a short (as in four foot ten), voluptuous brunette, with tight little ringlets tumbling down to her shoulders, and stylish, bronze-rimmed glasses; and the second was equally shapely, seven or eight inches taller, and had softer, chocolate curls down to mid-back. Both had dark brown eyes, bordering on black. "Next is my daughter, Sally-Anne, fifth year Hufflepuff, who I believe you know from school, and beside her, we have my honorary – and Iain's biological - niece, Isobel Murchison, seventh year Slytherin and your new Head Girl."
"Hi Sally. I'm sorry we don't know each other better, but it's not like we're encouraged to mingle when in school."
"It's OK, Harry. I guess we'll get the chance now."
"Yeah.. Better late than never, right?" he said, turning to Isobel. "Pleased to meet you. I can't say I know you at all, but I know of you, in particular your nickname, which I won't repeat here."
"Please do! I worked hard for years to earn that name," she gushed with a peculiar lilt to her speech, then winked at him.
"Alright," Harry shrugged. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Ice Bitch. I never thought I'd be elevated to such an honour, from my lowly station in life." He kissed her hand in an exaggerated, formal manner.
"Oh, Mr. Potter," she breathed. "I'm so thrilled to have been noticed by an important and upstanding wizard such as yourself, good Sir. I think I'll just go and swoon," she simpered, an over-the-top look of nauseating adoration on her face. Strangled laughs were heard from Sirius and Mhairi.
"I'll get you, Miss Murchison. Sooner or later, I'll get you," Harry threatened mock indignantly.
"Oohh! Please do. I'm sure that with your revered name, along with a modest bride price, my Laird will be overjoyed to sign me over to you. My life will be complete then, and I'll be able to die happy... After walking funny for several years prior, of course."
Harry snorted, Sally snickered, and Isobel crowed. "I win," she proclaimed, as she did a little dance on the spot, then marked a point in the air. "Ice Bitch, one – Golden Boy, nil."
"How does she do that every time?" Mr. Perks murmured, shaking his head. "Anyway," he continued, moving along to a boy of eight or nine, with drab, brownish hair and hazel eyes. "This is my son, Steven, who'll start his first year at Beauxbatons next month."
Harry blinked. This boy was even shorter than he'd been at eleven himself. But then again, Mhairi was perhaps a hair over 5 feet, and Sally-Anne was even shorter, so it probably ran in their genes. He held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Steven. Looking forward to school?"
"You bet!" the boy replied. "I can't wait. They say, they actually teach Potions and History there." Everybody cracked up.
"Good on you, Steven. I envy you."
The last person in the line was a very familiar, slender girl with honeyblond hair in a pageboy cut, delicate features, and deep blue eyes. "Last, but by no means least, we have Iain and Eliza's daughter, and my niece, who I'm....."
When Harry started to register anything again, he found himself with his arms full of warm witch. A warm, soft, enticing girl, who had her legs wrapped around his waist, and who kissed him like she'd devour his tongue, soul, mind, and heart, and Harry was more than pleased to let her, especially if the suction could redirect some of the blood that was currently speeding southwards.
"Yes," Mr. Perks commented in a dry, technical manner. "I suspected you two might know each other from somewhere."
Finally, the need for air ended the kiss, just as Iain cleared his throat. They still hung on very tightly to each other, though. "Damn, I've missed you, Sunshine," Harry murmured into her hair.
"I know," she whispered. "As good as the phones are, there's no replacement for this." She molded herself even closer against him. "It seems the nutrients are working," she commented. "We're almost the same height now, and I don't remember you filled out that much." She flushed and her eyes widened. "...and I definitely don't remember that much filling there, Mr. Potter," she murmured huskily in his ear.
"Wench!" he mumbled. "You know what you do to me." He put her down, and stepped back a little and looked her over. She really did things to both him and his libido, and the thin, short, white sundress she was wearing, didn't do anything at all to diminish the effects. On the contrary, it amped them up considerably. "My God, you're beautiful," he whispered, as he pulled her in again for an encore of her welcome-kiss.
"Right you two," Eliza drawled. "There are underage witches and wizards here, so I think you'd better take a step back for now." The glimmer in her eyes belied her stern tone, though.
Once they had disentangled themselves from each other, and wore identical, properly chastised looks, Katie turned towards Harry again, eyebrow arched. "Threesome with Pansy?" She set up a nauseous expression. "Something you've forgotten to tell me, Potter?"
"Oh, yeah..." Harry looked sheepish. "Sorry about that, but it was too good not to use. I was surrounded by half the Order, including the Marauders, McGonagall, Granger, and the Weasleys. I just couldn't justify letting it go," his eyes shone with glee.
Deep silence reigned, as the people around him replayed his words, then snorts, snickers and giggles broke loose. "You didn't?" Mhairi fought hard to contain her mirth.
"He did," Sirius confirmed. "It made for a very entertaining morning, let me tell you that. I never thought I'd see my Head of House blush quite like that. Truly a sight to see. And Molly is probably still ranting about hussies and 'her poor Harry'. The Weasley kids set about guessing who Harry's secret girlfriend might be. I can see now, that Ginny actually got it right first time, but the others nixed her, so since Pansy was mentioned, they settled on an undisclosed Slytherin, with a Miss Greengrass as the most likely candidate." That brought Isobel into tears of laughter.
"I know several Slytherin girls who'd like a piece of the Golden Boy, but Greengrass isn't one of them. She's much more likely to try to seduce Katie." Another round of laughs erupted.
Once he'd gotten his breathing under control, Iain stepped up. "Right, everybody. As we've now gotten the hellos out of the way..." he turned to see his daughter wrapped around Harry again. "...well most of us at least..." several snorts were heard, and a couple of almost identical blushes were seen. "...I'll suggest we remove ourselves to the sitting room, where I've been informed that there's a glass of Champagne waiting for us, to celebrate Harry's newfound freedom, as well as Sirius' release to custody. Once we've properly celebrated, I believe there will be a meal waiting, and then we can get on with the planning and plotting, as well as getting some answers from Albert and Harry. I don't think I'm the only one who's anxious to know, what else has been going on today."
It seemed that everybody agreed, and amidst amicable chats and good-natured ribbing, they made their way after their host.