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Posted May 10, 2012.
-CHAPTER 8-
LEGAL ARGUMENTS, I
June 29, 2000
Canadian Ministry of Magic,
Toronto, ON
The court room was about the same size as the room in which Harry had been tried for the murder of Colin Creevey four years prior. However, the décor was rather different, taking on the feeling of a Muggle court rather than a magical one. In fact, save for the magical instruments and the like, the Ministry itself was like any other place in the Muggle world. Canadian Wizarding society had most definitely not kept themselves isolated, much like was the case in England.
The bench held a number of individuals, all wearing Muggle attire, rather than robes. If there was one other thing Jason had picked up in the Wizarding community there, the wearing of robes was more the exception, rather than the expectation. The judge's bench was still vacant, but a court scribe was already present, sitting in his own box below the bench. Along with several Wizarding instruments, there was also a computer.
Two large tables separated the two sides of a case, in this case, he, Harry Potter, versus the very government he was petitioning. However, it looked like this would be a rather easy victory, since Samantha Thomas and several Aurors stood at the table across from them. At Jason's table, it was him, Mace, Sandra, and Ty, along with two other assistants.
At precisely nine o'clock, a side door swung open, and an Auror stepped out of it. "All rise, her honour Patricia Watson now presiding. This June session of the Wizarding Court of Canada now in session." A short witch with brown hair and a dark complexion stepped up and took a seat at her bench. Unlike the others, she did wear a robe, with a red sash draped across the front of it. She glanced down at something in front of her.
"Please be seated." There was a rustling of clothing and items, as the sparse number in the court room took their seats. "Auror?"
"Ministry v Black nee Potter, and Mace, petition for political asylum," the Auror announced, passing up another folder. The judge accepted it. She leafed through its contents, then looked at Samantha. "Madam Thompson?"
Samantha stood up. "Under normal circumstances, our office would most certainly be moving to quash these sort of manoeuvres. Although it is fair to say sometimes they are most necessary, most of the time they are not, as in most cases, the applicant is only using this device to escape due punishment in the country they are fleeing.
"That said, I am most certainly somewhat versed in the matter concerning Mr. Black, nee Potter's legal situation, and I find it all most disturbing. Setting aside my thoughts and views on what our compatriots across the pond call justice, I think it would be a further travesty should we just follow along with them, condemning this young man across the isle from me without first taking a very long, hard look at the evidence they used against him. I have nothing further to say, other than, Mr. Black, nee Potter, has the support of the DMLE here." She retook her seat.
"Madam Fraser?"
Sandra stood up. "Given the positive support of those who would normally be an adversary in an application such as this, it does make things much easier for me, considering she touched on the most important points I was about to make.
"I think it should be emphasized, however, that my client has been abused and used as a scapegoat, in the most horrible way imaginable. No individual should ever have their rights trampled on the way he has. Without some sort of protection, he will continue to suffer at the hands of those who wish to control or use him for their own personal gain. Thank you." Sandra also sat down.
"Very well," said the judge, once again giving a glance to one of the documents that had been passed up to her, "It is indeed rather rare, an applicant having the support of the Ministry. Therefore, it does make this rather cut and dry. Applicants, if you will please rise."
"Jason..." said Sandra. The party stood up.
"Regarding the applications presented me by Mr. Jason Black, nee Harry Potter, and James Mace. I find both are in order, with the circumstances and reasoning more than applicable. The applications, are therefore granted. To that extent, I issue a court injunction against the warrants out for the arrest of Mr. Mace and Mr. Potter, with regards to Canadian Ministry jurisdiction." She smacked a round block with a knocker of some sort.
"All parties please rise."
"Merlin... that was insanely fast," said Jason, as they walked back through the Ministry to use the public fireplace.
"With Samantha's support, it was cut and dry, like the judge said," said Sandra, "I'm still waiting to hear back from the ICW, but the paperwork for your appeal has been filed."
"If it goes anything like what I know about appeals and shit like that, it's probably gonna take a while," said Mace.
"Not necessarily. The ICW doesn't handle many appeals. Generally a conviction is based on solid evidence. You have to realize, we do have methods of determining if someone's guilty or not, unlike the Muggle world. Cases like Jason's don't normally happen."
Getting back to the office, the group found Bill waiting for them in the conference room. Harry momentarily hugged the oldest Weasley boy.
"Well? How'd it go?"
"Political asylum here," answered Jason.
"Well done. Dumbledore's in a twist these days, I can tell you. Not the most pleasant man to be around right now. I'd swear he's aged a decade over the past few days."
"Maybe he'll pack it in, be one less worry," Jason scowled. He'd just got the words out of his mouth, when Fawkes appeared in a brilliant flash of golden flames. Mace stood rooted to the floor, stunned by the arrival.
"Hello, Fawkes," Jason greeted, as the bird fluttered over to land on his shoulder. He grew worried. "Did something happen?"
The bird only let out a musical string of notes, then nipped him on the ear, making Jason yelp in pain. Another string of notes, and Jason felt a tremendous wave of magical power wash over him. Those watching saw bird and man surrounded momentarily by a golden cage. Mace had by now seen the memory of Voldemort's return, and was instantly reminded of the same cage which surrounded Jason and Voldemort when their wands connected.
The fear was for nought, however, as it rapidly dispersed.
"Fawkes? What the hell?" Jason was alarmed as he reached up and touched this ear. His finger came away bloody. The bird had drawn blood!
Bill understood at once, however. "Harry—Jason. Fawkes... just bonded with you."
"He WHAT?" Jason blurted, while Sandra and Ty looked somewhere between astonished, and frightened.
"But why? What's it mean?" Mace was confused, and still rather startled, from the bird's rather fiery arrival.
"It means... Dumbledore is going dark," answered Bill, his features seeming to darken, "I... need to make a fire call."
"Ty... after he's done, make a fire call to Samantha, let her know what's happened as well. A phoenix abandoning their bonded... yikes. Terrible omen."
"Great. Just great. As if things can't get more complicated." Jason flopped into one of the seats, while Fawkes fluttered over to the seat next to it. Jason looked about ready to bang his head on the table out of frustration. Seeing several calming draughts at the centre of the table, he snatched one, and consumed its contents. Otherwise, he would be shouting at people, which in this case would do no one any good. Mace, of course, quickly claimed the vacant seat to his right, and offered further support, getting him grounded again.
"Better now?"
"Thanks." Jason thought for a moment, then asked, "Gotta wonder what was the straw that broke the camel's back? What's the old man plotting now?"
the answer came rather quickly, in the form of another poster issued by the English Ministry.
"UNDESIRABLE NO. 1: HARRY POTTER" it proclaimed, with another unflattering photo of Jason taking up most of the space. A ten-thousand galleon reward was being offered for his capture.
"Can he sue them?" Mace dared ask.
"Not directly, no. The English Wizarding community has no set of laws which would allow for such a thing. Over here, however... Jason... if you were to take out Canadian citizenship, then we could do something," said Sandra.
"If..." Jason thought for a moment. "Why not? How quickly can it be done?"
"It may take a few weeks through magical channels. Normally it takes years in the Muggle world, of course. It will also depend on the appeal. But I could certainly get things rolling. Also, you should bear in mind, you would only be able to take legal action with regards to anything which happens from here on out. You could not go after them for anything retroactive, if that makes sense."
"Yeah, I think so." In the back of his mind, he envisioned Rita Skeeter being hauled into court to answer for her venomous and poisonous articles she was known to write... it certainly would take nothing to egg her on, after all. Mace actually shivered again, seeing that creepy smile cross Jason's face.
Seeing Bill return, Ty left the room.
"I spoke with Professor McGonagall, she knows what's happened. She's quite alarmed, I'll say that much," said Bill, taking a vacant seat. "How have things been since you got here, Jason?"
"Still working on finding a more permanent place to call home. The Blazing Goblet's been nice, but it would be better if we have some place of our own."
"And given you're obviously planning on staying here, we could set you up with a real estate agent. Any thoughts where you might like to settle?" Sandra asked.
"Not really. I think, we need someplace that's private. Lots of space."
"You're probably needing a rural setting then. A dormant farm."
"She means a place that used to be a farm," Mace clarified.
"Right. That would be brilliant. Put up some strong wards, maybe. Muggle repelling wards and so on. I'd like to be able to fly around on my broom and not worry about Muggles seeing me. It would be nice to also have room in case my friends want to come visit. It's a smaller list than it used to be, but having a nice big house would be excellent, I think."
"You're thinking something like the Burrow," Bill guessed.
"Finding a place like that would be perfect, yeah," Jason agreed.
July, 2000
The property was enormous. Situated on Regional Road twenty-four, not far east of a small village called Port Stanley, on Lake Erie's north shore, it featured a large farmhouse, and several metal barns. The property was made up of an even split between farm land and woods, ending with a bluff overlooking the lake. It was nothing like the Burrow, but it had everything Jason had in mind. And, anything that was missing could certainly be gotten or added. A quick question or two to his mate, and it was a done deal. That had been well over a week ago.
Jason had been a series of meetings with the goblins, the result being the bank was then settling any affairs concerning the Black estate, and number twelve, Grimmauld Place was being put on the market. A team of warders and curse breakers were combing through the place, cleaning out any residual magic, since Jason decided it would be sold on the Muggle market. Naturally, that also meant a rather uncomfortable conversation with Kreacher, convincing the elf to help out. After all, there were things worth keeping.
In any event, word reached the Order of the Phoenix, as to exactly what Harry was up to—It would always be Harry to Dumbledore. Therefore, on July 19, he was again before the Wizengamot.
"There is a matter in regards to Mr. Potter, which I failed to take into account immediately following his incarceration," said the old wizard.
"Get on with it, Dumbledore, we do have more important issues requiring attention," snapped an older wizard from several rows up.
"Patience my dear boy, this will only take a few moments. While we took steps to ensure he would not have access to his estate in the unlikely event he should somehow escape from Azkaban, we did not, however, take into account his inheritance, namely, the Black estate, as willed to him by the now deceased Sirius Black. The estate is worth far more than the Potter estate is, and the monies within it could be used more productively."
"You're seeking to have the estate frozen."
"Exactly, Madam Longbottom. With Mr. Potter—"
"Mr. Black, headmaster," Longbottom corrected sharply, "Escaped criminal or not, he has legally changed his name."
"Mr. Potter—" Dumbledore persisted, "—Now has access to a vault with a value close to twenty-five million galleons. It is incomprehensible as to what sort of mischief he may unleash, whether he be working for Voldemort or not."
"Our magical brethren across the Atlantic seem to think otherwise, Professor," said Madam Bones, with a frown.
"It is not their opinion which counts in this July body, though, is it?" Madam Umbridge simpered, "I for once do agree with the esteemed professor with regards to Mr. Potter."
"If we put it to a vote, then? All in favour?"
Two days later, while Jason was still settling into his new home, a barn owl swooped in through the open kitchen window, to drop a letter on the table, and then immediately left the way it came in. Jason picked it up, recognizing the Gringotts seal, and opened it.
Dear Mr. Black,
We regret to inform you that certain aspects of the Black estate have been frozen by the English Wizengamot, by order of its head. This includes the property in London, which you were intending to put up for sale. You have our sincerest apologies for this inconvenience.
However, we are happy to inform you this does not extend to items and vaults you have already transferred here to the Toronto branch of Gringotts, as the English Wizengamot has no jurisdiction over their contents or their owners.
Once again, with deepest regret,
Balwark, Branch manager,
Gringotts, Toronto Branch
"That meddling goat fucker!" Jason swore, slamming the letter down on the table.
"What'd he do this time?" Mace dared ask, looking up from his breakfast.
"Had the Black estate frozen. Glad you suggested us moving the vault here... swear I'm gonna strangle the man with his own beard..." At that moment, there were two distinct pops. Kreacher appeared beside the table, near Jason, while the second pop came from outside.
"Master Jason... Kreacher can no longer enter the ancestral Black home." The elf looked out of sorts.
"I know, Kreacher—" there was a knock at the back door.
"Got it." Mace got up to answer it, while Jason said, "Gringotts sent me a notice. The Wizengamot froze the Black estate... save for the vault which we moved."
"Jason... I see you got the notice," said Bill, entering the kitchen.
"Y'know, you do have walk-in privileges, you didn't have to knock," said Jason.
"What if it wasn't me? Even here, you guys will have to take precautions. A war's coming whether we like it or not. And something else..." Bill rummaged through his pockets, and pulled out a rather worn journal, along with a tattered text book. "Professor Snape sends these along without compliments."
"Why would—" Jason picked up the worn journal. "Occlumency and Other Mind Arts," he read. He let out a snort. "Should've had this at the beginning." He sighed. "Better late than never. And—Advanced Potion-Making, by Libatius Borage... looks like it's seen better days," Jason snorted, glancing at the text book, almost afraid to open the cover with the fear it would fall apart.
"Snape tells me it was his copy and you may find the annotations useful." Jason dared open it, and sure enough, it was marked up with messy handwriting that was nearly impossible to read. "Jason. You really do need to learn Occlumency. I'd suggest mentioning this to Sandra, see if she might have any leads here."
"Yeah. Agreed. Preferably someone who doesn't loathe my existence. All I got out of Occlumency lessons from Professor Snape was a splitting headache." He stacked the books together.
"Right. Enough of that nonsense. How are you two adjusting?" Bill took a seat at the table.
"The first night was rough, I'll say that," said Mace, "Jason didn't sleep at all, I don't think... kept waking me up."
"Wasn't used to it being so quiet. I think you could hear a pin drop from a hundred yards out here. So every little bump... of course, just as I was getting to sleep, right? Yeah, Mace described it pretty well... a rough night." He took a sip of his pumpkin juice. "I think the first few nights were the toughest. Not having a crowd of people around me... or Dementors patrolling the corridors outside of my cell. Even on... well, where I met Mace... there was still ambient noise around us, and then... at the Blazing Goblet... constantly noise and so on.
"I guess, though, I'm getting used to it. I don't feel so stressed out about things, either."
"Maybe the country life suits you, Jason."
"Who would've thought?" Jason grinned, and had the last forkful of scrambled eggs off his plate. Kreacher eagerly snatched the empty plate, and sent it to the sink, where it started to wash itself.
"And what about you, Mace?" Bill gestured to the man who had most definitely claimed Jason's heart.
"As long as Jason's happy, so am I. That's all that matters right now."
"Good, good." Bill seemed to think on something, then said, "How is it you met anyway? Jason, you keep alluding to something that worked as a port key."
"Can we tell him?" Jason glanced at Mace.
"If you trust him..."
"He wouldn't know where we lived if I didn't, Mace." He leaned back in his chair, but then sat up. "Maybe we should view this in a pensieve, rather than try and explain it."
"Pensieves are expensive, Jason."
Jason let out a snort. "So what? I saw what's in my vault. I strongly doubt the cost of a pensieve will empty my vault any time soon."
It was mid-afternoon before the three of them returned to the house courtesy of Fawkes. Although they had certainly caused quite a stir in Toronto's Wizarding shopping district the first time they'd done so, it was now expected and accepted. If anything, it set other people at ease, even though they recognized the two young wizards in the bird's company. The English witches and wizards had to have it wrong, a phoenix would never associate with a known murderer, right?
"Y'know, we should get a camera and take a picture of the pair of us with Fawkes. Seriously, no phoenix would associate with someone who's going dark, right?"
"I can see if I can get a Wizarding camera," Bill offered.
"Great. I'll pay you back for it." Jason set the box containing the pensieve they'd just bought on the coffee table in the living room. "Let's sit... great. Now. Mace, you see how we pulled memories?"
"Sort of."
"Take out your wand."
Mace did so. "Now put it to your right temple, like so." Jason had already drawn his own wand, and demonstrated. "Now, focus on the things you want us to see. Maybe just one memory for now, so you get the hang of it. Tell me when you're ready."
"Okay."
"Now, with just that memory, pull the tip of your wand away—exactly!" A silvery strand of what looked like hair had come away from Mace's temple, to dangle on the end of his wand. Bill tapped the box with his wand, instantly revealing the contents: a clay bowl with a number of strange little pictures drawn around its edge. Within it, was the same shimmering liquid Mace had seen before in Dumbledore's pensieve. Mace already knew what to do, and dropped the hair-like strand into the liquid, causing it to shimmer momentarily.
"What are we about to see?"
"It's how Jason found me, or about a minute before. Bill... I just want Jason to see it for now. He sort of already knows, shit like that."
"Okay, very well."
"Coming with?"
"Right." Both Jason and Mace stuck a finger in the shimmering liquid, and froze there.
They unfroze about forty-five seconds after, and Jason seized his mate tightly, and they locked lips. Whatever Mace had just showed him, it was upsetting.
"You need a calming draught?" Bill asked. Getting no answer from the pair, he called for Kreacher, and made the request. The pair finally separated, but Jason was actually shaking from what he'd seen.
"Jason. Look at me." Jason looked his mate in the eyes, his own glossy with un-shed tears. "You saved my ass, that's all that's important.. right?"
"I... still..."
"It's done. Just let it go. Now how do I put this back in my head?"
"Kreacher is bringing a calming draught."
"Th...thank you, Kreacher." Jason accepted the offered bottle, and consumed its contents, and took a breath, allowing it to do its job. The man he now loved more than he'd ever loved Cedric... could have died before they even met. In his mind he made a silent prayer to whatever deity had sent him hurtling across time and space.
Finally calm enough, he helped Mace put the memory back where it belonged. "Okay. Now that I'm feeling calm enough. I'll show this from my end. From me discovering the, um, package in my cell... to us being dropped in Dumbledore's office," said Jason, as he pulled a silvery strand from his temple. He dropped it in the pensieve, and this time the three of them entered it.
This time, it was over an hour before they returned from the pensieve. Mace and Jason both slumped back into the couch, and were more than happy to melt into each other's company. Seeing their predicament as an outsider, it was more than alarming.
Equally so, Bill was flooded with a range of emotions, as he processed what he'd just seen. Perhaps, if anything good came out of it, was the fact Jason now had a strong individual who would be his anchor, someone he could lean on for support when things got difficult. Of course, Bill knew about Cedric, and back then, as now, saw exactly the same thing play out—save for the horrible ending of things which saw Cedric murdered by the Dark Lord.
He had to smirk to himself, thinking of the ferocious tongue-lashing Jason had served Dumbledore with when they finally let him back into his office. The guy was becoming a formidable wizard, one who would more than likely shape the future of the Wizarding world—whether he wanted to or not. Even then, he was already making a lot of waves, causing friction between two Wizarding communities.
Jason was broken out of his stupor, as another owl swooped into the room from the kitchen, to drop a letter into his lap, a letter into Mace's lap, turn around, and fly back out from whence it came. This letter had a seal Jason had never seen before, and by the looks of it, it was important. He broke the seal, and opened it.
Mr. Jason Black, also known as Harry Potter
Black residence,
Port Stanley Ontario, Canada
Dear Mr. Black/Potter
This letter is in response to the writ of certiorari filed on your behalf by your solicitor earlier this month. We have reviewed the application, and have decided your case does fit the provisions of the writ.
Therefore, please be advised that you are required to appear before the International Confederation of Wizards Appellate Division, at 9 am on Monday, July 31, 2000. At that time, you and your solicitor will be permitted to address the Appellate Division with regards to your murder conviction in 1996. Expect to present pensieve testimony, and Veritaserum may be administered.
Hope you are well,
Rosemary Vandermill,
International Confederation of Wizards,
Appellate Division,
Geneva, Switzerland
"Well, what is it?" Bill questioned.
"Good news, I think. Here." He passed the letter over. He glanced over at Mace. "What's yours?"
"Your lawyer's pretty slick. Here." Jason took the parchment and scanned it, then grinned. "Yeah, have to agree with that one. Like I said though. Dumbledore likes to blow things out of proportion when it comes to me... or people who get in his way when it comes to me. Mace, you were in the way as far as he was concerned. Having you carted off to Azkaban was his way of getting you out of the way."
"I'll return the favour one day."
"Get in line. You can have a go at him once I'm done with him," Jason muttered. He giggled, though, as the thought of his rather muscular boyfriend strangling the life out of the old codger popped into his head. Mace could easily guess what Jason was thinking, and cracked a smile.
"Right. Best get in contact with Sandra, let her know about this... though she likely already knows," said Bill.
"Yeah, agreed." And with that, the thoughts about pursuing the strange port key-like device were abandoned.
July 31, 2000
Head office of the International Confederation of Wizards
Geneva, Switzerland
It was Jason's birthday, but there was no time to celebrate. There were much bigger fish to fry at this point, and the only reference to it was the awesome wake-up call he'd received from Mace. It nearly made them late, as the timid house-elf assigned to look after them had to prod them at least six times before they finally climbed out of bed.
After a rushed shower (which they had no issues sharing), a quick breakfast, and a rather hasty ride in a car supplied by the ICW, they arrived at the massive building which served as the headquarters for the magical version of the United Nations. They found Sandra and Ty waiting for them in the lobby, and from there, they took an elevator up to the seventeenth floor. Jason noted there was no press contingent present. In a way it was a relief. Naturally, the Ministry would have loads to say no matter what the outcome of the proceeding.
"The pair of you are all set I trust?"
"Ready as I ever will be," said Jason. He and Mace had visited a high-end tailor in Toronto, and now dressed in a pair of expensive suits. Jason wore a pin on the lapel of his jacket, which, if anyone got a look at, was actually the Black crest. It was one of the things Kreacher had been able to locate in the vault after it had been moved to Toronto.
"I should warn you. Dumbledore is here, and I believe so is Fudge," said Sandra.
"Oh, this will be brilliant," said Jason, a nasty smile coming across his face, "Too bad we couldn't lace the both of them with Veritaserum. Let's see what dirty little secrets they'll share."
"Come on, this way..." Sandra led the group through a set of large doors, into a room which looked similar to court room ten of the British Ministry—the same room in which he'd been tried for Colin's murder... the same room he'd been tried for underaged magic.
There were at least ten witches and wizards all sitting on the upper bench, with one single wizard sitting separate from the others. He looked to be about as old as Dumbledore was, with dark skin and hair that was done in an intricate braid. He peered out over the room through a pair of square glasses, something like he remembered McGonagall wearing. Jason dared look around, and to his relief, found the room empty, other than the judges—or those at least, he figured were judges.
He frowned, seeing a group of people at one of the tables. They included Dumbledore, Fudge, and a woman he loathed set eyes on ever again: Delores Umbridge. He at this point did his best to ignore them, as his group gathered at the opposing table.
"Counsellor, you were almost late," said the judge, in a soft, but clear voice.
"Forgive the delay, my lord. We are ready to proceed," said Sandra, giving a slight bow of the head to the panel of judges.
"Very well." The overseeing judge gave a nod to a fair-skinned witch seated in a box below. The box was nearly overflowing with stacks of parchment that threatened to bury her in an avalanche. The witch seemed to have it in hand, however, picking up a single paper from the top of one of the piles.
"Harry Potter and British Ministry of Magic, my lords, concerning a writ of certiorari. Harry Potter is contesting his 1996 conviction for murder, my lords." She gestured with her wand, sending the paper up to the overseeing judge. He glanced it over, then gave a nod to Fudge.
"My Lords," he began, standing, "It is somewhat of an outrage to be before this body, given this matter has already been settled without question before our own Wizengamot. Surely, my lords, if the cries of an unstable criminal such as Potter is, what is preventing others who are far more dangerous from making similar, outlandish claims, swamping this very body with numerous, but untrue motions and appeals, all of them wasting your valuable time.
"Witnesses were brought before our body and questioned thoroughly before their testimony was weighed yay or nay. We have documented statements from the Aurors who discovered Mr. Potter, standing over the body of his victim, wand still in hand. This matter is closed, my lords, I ask you all do the Ministry due, and not reopen this matter."
Fudge returned to his seat, and the judge nodded to Sandra. She was already half out of her seat. Jason, meanwhile, sat in his own seat, fuming. The man had gone 'round the twist, that was all there was to it! Only a strong squeeze on the shoulder from his mate kept him from yelling across the isle.
"My lords," Sandra began, "It is true, Mr. Black, nee Potter, was found standing over the body of the deceased. However, it is not for the reasons believed. Mr. Creevey was a classmate and a friend of Mr. Black. To find a friend murdered in a place believed to be safe? My client was devastated. Considering he was already grieving over the loss of someone he saw as a father figure, this only added to the grief. My client was in a state of shock when he was found. If it would please the court, I would like to present my first pensieve memory which will demonstrate my client's behaviour up to and immediately following discovery."
"I must object!" Fudge cried out at once, "We do not permit such things to be admitted into evidence!"
"Overruled," spoke a witch on the left side of the overseeing judge, "Whether or not it is policy in your court is irrelevant here. Proceed, Miss Fraser." The overseeing judge, meanwhile, nodded to another wizard sitting in a separate box opposite the court scribe. He produced a similar clay bowl Harry had bought not long before, and conjured a small table with his wand. The bowl was placed on it, while Sandra produced the vial containing the memory. Jason had provided several of them so they would be prepared.
"Whose memory are we about to see?" Enquired the court scribe.
"My client's," answered Sandra, as she moved back to the table, and picked up a page of parchment. "This is a signed, sworn oath that the contents are accurate." The wizard who produced the pensieve collected the form, and passed it over to the court scribe.
"Proceed, Miss Fraser." Jason smirked, as he could see Fudge practically squirming in his seat. 'Afraid of the truth, you worthless wanker?' he thought.
The memory was played similar to a hologram, so all the parties could see it. The judges and court officials remained unmoved by the contents, while Jason shifted in his seat, uncomfortable in having such a difficult moment in his life aired in public again.
Fudge, meanwhile, turned white. Surely, they haven't... they boy was guilty! They were all sure of it! They'd caught him just there! There it was, the Aurors snatching him up and hauling him bodily away... but... no. The reaction from the boy was completely wrong. It wasn't the cries of guilt. The boy was in shock.
NO. Fudge shook his head. If he admitted to possibly locking up the boy-who-lived on false charges, it would be the end of him! The lifespan of his career after that would likely be measured in minutes! Never admit you were wrong! Not in front of the enemy.
The memory finished, and as Sandra collected it from the stone bowl, she asked, "Minister Fudge, after seeing that memory, care to tell us your opinion of the matter?"
"I decline to answer, counsellor, as in my opinion, memories are not admissible in a trial."
"I watched you, Fudge. You turned as white as the shirt I'm wearing," Jason muttered.
"Order," said a wizard on the far right of the panel, "You will have your turn, Mr. Potter."
"Sorry," said Jason.
"For the record, my client no longer uses the name Potter. He has legally changed it to Jason Black."
"So noted," said the court scribe, a dicta-quill scratching away on a lengthy roll of parchment beside her.
"However, I re-iterate the observation of my client, and pose a question. What prompted such a reaction, Minister Fudge? Did you see something in this memory that perhaps frightened you?"
"N-n-n-yes," Fudge squeaked. Try as he may, he was unable to resist the subtle truth charm placed over the room.
"And what exactly is it you saw which frightened you, Minister?"
"The boy's reaction... it was not of guilt."
"You would be right. It was not of guilt, Minister. You do recall, my client had just lost his godfather only days before the incident in question, am I right?"
"I was aware, yes."
"Are you aware of a medical condition called shock?"
"Can't say I am and either way, this is all irrelevant," Fudge huffed.
"Shock is a type of medical condition, usually induced by physical or emotional trauma, among other things. Shallow breathing, a weak heart rate and pulse, clammy skin, and may be weak and confused.
"It's those last items I point out to you. My client had already suffered a terrible emotional trauma, witnessing the death of his godfather, someone he saw as a parent. To come upon the dead body of one of his classmates, it was one stress too many."
"If I might ask Mr. Black, then. Is this how you felt, as described by your counsel?" questioned a witch on the right side of the panel.
"Yes my lady," said Jason, "I was numb. I just... stood there, frozen. Another classmate and friend... two years back to back was what kept running through my head... and Sirius... if that wasn't bad enough. I don't think I really realized what was happening, until they had me chained to the chair in front of the Wizengamot."
"And they never bothered to question you with Veritaserum?" the witch asked.
"No, my lady."
"Most disturbing." The wizards and witches among the panel muttered amongst themselves, but all were nodding. Sandra at this point knew she had this one in the bag. The nasty looks they were casting toward the party from the British Ministry spoke volumes. The witch, however, continued. "If we move on to your trial. Were you permitted to testify freely?"
"No, my lady."
"How many witnesses were called?" That question directed at the Ministry.
"Thirty-five, my lady," answered Dumbledore this time. He'd remained silent up to this point, although he kept casting the 'I'm disappointed in you' looks over at Jason. Jason had long become immune to those by now.
"How many of those were for the defence?"
"Officially, none of them," Dumbledore answered. More muttering and nasty looks from the panel. No, the Ministry was not making any friends here.
"A better question, was Mr. Black granted any sort of legal counsel?"
"Most unfortunate..." Fudge began, but...
"Silence!" The overseeing judge snapped, casting a withering look at the Ministry envoy. "We have heard enough." A silencing ward snapped up, and the panel huddled together.
Sandra gave Jason a warm smile. "We have them. I'll give them..." she looked at her watch, "All of two minutes."
"Harry, my boy..." Jason found Dumbledore had dared cross the isle.
Jason's eyes narrowed to form ice-chips. "How dare you. Afraid of what will happen with the outcome? I would, if I were you."
"Hey Jason... I could show him the, um... spell I learned again," Mace smirked, the glowing orb appearing in his hand. Dumbledore's mask actually slipped for a moment. For some reason, the fair-skinned, muscular man with short-cropped hair made him uncomfortable. The magic he wielded was nothing he'd ever heard of, and quite honestly, it was downright painful.
"Headmaster, do us all a favour and go back to your table," said Jason, a nasty scowl on his face. The headmaster did so, once again wearing his 'disappointed' face. Jason took it for what it was: a mask.
The silencing ward fell, with the judges all seated, and the overseeing judge scowling from his position. "Parties will rise." Both sides of the isle stood, and Jason felt Mace grab his hand, interlocking their fingers together. The judge let out a sigh, and Jason thought for a moment he was going to reach up and pinch the bridge of his nose, like he'd seen Snape do so many times.
"In the matter of Black nee Potter and his writ of certiorari(1) filed on his behalf by his counsel. It is the decision of this court, that the verdict returned by the English Wizengamot is henceforth declared void and invalid. All properties frozen or confiscated as a result of this verdict shall be returned to their rightful owner in a swift and expeditious manner. It shall also be noted, the English Wizengamot shall not in any way attempt to file charges against Mr. Black regarding this crime. It is not our place to direct individual nations how they may conduct business, but it is our place to insure those before us who have been a victim of the process do not continue to be so." He looked down at the court scribe. "We are off the record."
"My lord." The court scribe tapped the dicta-quill with her wand, and it stopped writing.
"Minister Fudge, I am unsure of exactly what sort of Ministry you may be running back in merry ole' England, but I assure you, I find the case before us here this morning to be disturbing at best. I am sure Madam Fraser brought with her far more evidence than we have viewed here, and I truly fear for exactly what further travesty the young wizard before us endured, falsely accused of such a terrible crime. I do wonder, how many others might be languishing in Azkaban, a victim of such a farce you offer as justice."
"There will be a meeting of the Judicial Committee within a weeks' time to discuss this matter further," said the witch at the left side of the bench, "Perhaps it is time for a wide-scale evaluation and comparison of the judicial processes within the membership."
"Thank you, my lords," said Jason.
"Indeed." The overseeing judge again nodded to the court scribe, and she reactivated the dicta-quill. "Our second matter this morning, James Mace and the English Ministry. All parties again present."
"My lord, this is related to Mr. Black's case," said Sandra, "We believe the victim in this case is only, making a mountain out of a mole hill—forgive the mundane expression."
"If we could see exactly what happened," said the witch on the right. Mace was already producing his wand, and drawing the appropriate memory. It was quickly put into the pensieve, and replayed.
"Where did you learn to cast a spell in that manner, Mr. Mace?" the witch asked.
"Honestly, I still don't know exactly. I just opened some sort of book, and I just knew."
"Someone cannot just 'know' a spell from opening a book," Umbridge simpered, "The man must be lying."
"You know that to be inaccurate, madam," answered a wizard on the left side of the panel, "The enchantments on the room prevent lies. As... unusual... as the explanation may be, he speaks the truth." Turning his attention back to Mace, he asked, "What was your reason for attacking the victim?"
"I didn't know what he planned on doing, but he was drawing something out of his pocket. Didn't trust the look he was giving Jason, so I nailed him. Him dying from it? If Jason was able to fix my busted leg and save me from freezing to death... I doubt having a piece of ice impaled in his arm was gonna kill him."
"A very astute observation, Mr. Mace, and I happen to agree." the wizard turned to Dumbledore. "You've always been known for your theatrics, Professor. I believe this is yet another, and you waste your Ministry's time, and that of the international offices, with a 'witch hunt', which this clearly was. The charges against Mr. Mace are also declared void and invalid, such as those addressing Mr. Black."
"Thank you, um, your honour..." said Mace, with a slight incline of the head.
"Indeed. With nothing further, we adjourn."
"All rise," said the court scribe, and everyone stood.
"Harry, I implore you-"
"It's Mr. Black, Professor," answered Jason, coldly, "You lost your right to address me on familiar terms the day you betrayed me. Now please just go—actually... no, wait a moment. Tell me, how's Fawkes been keeping these days?"
The old wizard's features fell. To Mace, it looked like someone had kicked his puppy. Jason saw this too. "Fawkes?" With a brilliant flash of golden flames, the bird in question popped into the room, and instantly lit down on the shoulder of his new bonded. Seeing his former bond, he let out a string of notes, which to most sounded beautiful. But to Dumbledore, he knew exactly what they were. The bloody bird was mocking him.
"Fawkes knows exactly what you are, professor. I promise, eventually, the rest of the Wizarding world will know, too." He turned to face the rest of the group. "I'm in the mood for some fish and chips. Everyone up to a pick-me-up back at the Blazing Goblet?"
"More than a pick-me-up, Jason. Fuck, you're free!" said Mace, clapping his boyfriend on the back.
"Sure, sounds good to me, Jason," said Ty, with Sandra also agreeing. "Fawkes?" The bird simply offered his tail feathers, and four hands gripped them. Dumbledore attempted to grab on as well, but his hand was burned severely as they flashed away, leaving him behind.
That evening back at the house, it was an impromptu party, with easily a dozen of Jason's supporters present. It culminated in a spectacular fireworks display, courtesy of the twins, and some rather hasty adjustment of furniture to accommodate the guests overnight. And, although the pair kept things relatively tame, neither Jason nor Mace got much sleep that night.
Meanwhile, across the pond, Fawkes made one more visit to his former bonded. He swooped into his bedroom, lifted his tail, and left a rather nasty surprise on the headmaster's pillow for him to discover when he turned in for the night. It was most unfortunate he'd already left for the day, but that was fine. The bird could wait the old man out. He was immortal, after all, while the headmaster was not.
AUTHOR NOTES: (1) Writ of Certiorari: According to Wikipedia, it currently means an order by a higher court directing a lower court, tribunal, or public authority to send the record in a given case for review. In this case, the ICW calls the affected parties before them to review evidence. I'm likely reaching here, but I use artistic license, and it is the Wizarding world we're talking about.