Chapter Thirteen

A tense hush fell over the courtroom as Hermione stared down the clearly baffled Mrs. Stoneworth. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that the woman's husband had turned a bit pale. A new thought wandered across Hermione's mind but she would need a few more questions answered before she could tell if she was correct or not.

"Don't be stupid of course he can open it, he obviously just too nervous to do so with you breathing down his poor little neck," the blonde witch said hotly.

"You seem to misunderstand me, Mrs. Stoneworth," Hermione said smoothly as she handed her the box. "Your son literally, physically and magically can not open this box."

"And what makes you think he just wasn't trying hard enough?"

"Let me tell you a story, Mrs. Stoneworth," the bushy haired witch glared hard. "Three years ago Mr. Weasley's eldest niece was injured much in the same way your son was because of an unattended box of whiz-bangs at a family gathering. After she was on the mend, Mr. Weasley and his brother spent a considerable amount of time modifying the age line charm. Are you familiar with the age line charm, Mrs. Stoneworth?"

"Of course I am."

"Would you care to remind the court what it is?"

Not amused by the patronizing tone, Mrs. Stoneworth said, "An age line is a magical force field of sorts that repels anyone under the age that the line was set for."

"Exactly! So I am sure then it would not surprise you to know that due to that accident there is now an age limit spell woven into the packaging of every single box of whiz-bangs in Weasley Wheezes. An incredibly strong age limit spell, I might add, that repels the efforts of anyone under the age of fourteen from opening said box. The Weasley Brothers have placed this charm on every single box of whiz-bangs they have ever created since then in a effort to make sure that no other child would end up like their niece. This means, Mrs. Stoneworth, that you are lying to me."

"I'm not…"

"You are lying to me about your son stealing that box and opening it, because there is no possibly way he can open it."

There were more murmuring from the stands at the end of Hermione's speech. Mrs. Stoneworth looked like a fish opening and closing her mouth in an effort to try and find something to say. Hermione stole a quick glance at the woman's husband in the stands. He was sheet white by now and obviously sweating. His wife just appeared genuinely confused. Their son on the other hand looked like he was ready to cry. Hermione's suspicious were looking to be accurate but she needed to make for absolute certain before voicing her request to the judge. Thinking very carefully about how to word her next statement, Hermione opened her mouth to continue.

"Of course I could be wrong," she said, earning a thunder of bewildered noises from the audience.

"A..about what?" the perplexed woman asked with an almost disheartened voice.

"About you lying to me," Hermione said as she began to pace like a tiger ready to pounce. "You could be telling me the truth about your side of the story. After all it makes complete sense that a mother as fiercely devoted to her son as you would want compensation for her child's suffering, so there really is no reason not to believe your statement."

"I… I don't understand," Mrs. Stoneworth said, voicing the obvious collective thoughts of the entire room.

"You claim that he took the box from the counter with out your permission."

"Yes."

"And you yourself did not open the box for him?"

"Certainly not."

"So let's then just assume for the moment that you are telling me the truth about the story thus far," Hermione stopped her pacing. "Who then opened the box for your son? You claim you did not, neither to your knowledge did any of your older party guests."

"All of our older guests were scattered around the living and dining room eating."

"So you've said, Mrs. Stoneworth. If I may ask, who was the first person to reach your son?"

Mrs. Stoneworth's face slowly melted from anger to a look of slight horror, "My… my husband did."

"And did was he in the living room with you and your other guests before he rushed to your son?"

"I… no, no he wasn't."

"Had you seen your husband at all prior to the explosion?"

Mrs. Stoneworth's eyes shot an accusing look to her husband in the stands, "No, no I did not."

"Philip?" Hermione gently addressed the anxious child in the seat in front of her. "Did your father open that box for you and your friend?"

The violently shaking boy opened his mouth but nothing came out other than a slight strangled sound. In the audience his father jumped to his feet angrily.

"Your Honor, this is an outrage!" he roared. "This witch is badgering my terrified son and clearly leading him to acknowledge her own delusional opinions."

Hermione had anticipated this reaction and turned to Judge Gaufrid. "Your Honor if I have over stepped my bounds and questioned this young man beyond his capability to answer than I am more than willing to stop."

She could practically hear the sigh of relief from the brown haired man in the audience. His son certainly looked relieved as well. "In fact both if both Mrs. Stoneworth and her son have said everything they need to, I would be more than happy to allow them to return to their seats."

"What?" George scoffed a little too loudly. He coward under Hermione glare so instead turned to Sally. "What in Merlin's name is she doing?"

Sally chuckled under her breath, "Let's just say you are about to see a whole different sort of fireworks display."

Having once again silenced her frustrating client, Hermione turned back to the mother and son duo in the chairs. "Mrs. Stoneworth if you and your son would like to be seated back in the audience again you may do so now."

Mrs. Stoneworth nodded numbly and got up from the chair before offering her hand out to her som. Philip took it and walked back to their original places in the audience next to his father. Mr. Stoneworth was pointedly avoiding making eye contact with his wife. A gesture she clearly did not appreciate. Hermione readdressed Judge Gaufrid again.

"With your honor's permission, I would like to call Mr. Stoneworth to be questioned."

"Granted," Gaufrid replied curtly, setting his own glare on the suddenly twitchy little man in the populous seating.

With a great amount of hesitancy, the pudgy man made his way down to the court floor where Hermione waited for him. The slightly balding wizard couldn't help but feel like she was watching him much in the way a cat watches its prey. Once on the floor Mr. Stoneworth quietly took the seat his wife had just vacated and waited to be addressed by Hermione.

"Mr. Stoneworth," she began. "After I have finished with my questions, you have the right to question my client should you see fit to do so. Though I hardly think it shall be necessary."

The wizard snorted rudely, "Rather presumptuous of you, don't you think?"

Hermione fixed her eyes on the beady little man, "I am going to ask you this only once, Mr. Stoneworth. Did you or did you not open a box of whiz-bang fire works and let your six year old son and his friends run off with them."

"O…of course not!" he stammered.

"I don't believe you," Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Would you like to hear why I do not, Mr. Stoneworth?"

"I'm sure we would all love to hear your fabricated fairytale, Miss Granger," Stoneworth snorted, feeling more confident. From the stands George glared darkly at the offensive man trying to figure out the best way to make him pay for his rudeness towards Hermione.

"Excellent," she smiled sweetly at him before turning her back and pacing again. "So here is what I think happened. It's your son's sixth birthday party; lots of children are running about, lots of noise and lots of entertaining parents who have tagged along. Sometime during the party young Philip brags about what you and your wife bought from the Weasley Wheezes to his friends. Excited by the idea of fireworks… because lets face it what young boy doesn't like things to go BOOM?... Philip's friends convince him to get a box and ask you to shoot some of the whiz-bangs off for them in the back garden. Am I hitting the mark so far?"

"I… I suppose."

"I figured as much. So, back at the party, little Philip manages to obtain one of the boxes and comes to you asking if you could come shot off some of the fireworks for him and his friends, because his mother has already told him no. Not wanting to be dragged away from what you were doing, which I am sure was vastly important…" In the audience George snickered. Hermione's use of sarcasm never ceased to amuse him. "…you tell him to go on ahead and start and that you would be out to join them after they set some of the fireworks up. Sometime during this, you un-wrapped the box and opened it, breaking the charm and allowing a group of six year olds access to no less then twenty four sticks of condensed gun powder!" Not giving him a second to defend himself Hermione went for the thorat. "Was it before or after Philip started screaming in pain that you realized you had let your innocent son walk out the door, without an adult, with enough explosives to blow himself to China?"

"I…"

"Which was the first thing on your mind, Mr. Stoneworth, when you found your only child half burned and writhing around on the grass in anguish?" Hermione snapped. "Was it 'is he alright?' or was it 'how much money can I get from this mess'?"

"I…you…How dare you!" Stoneworth shouted.

"How dare I? How dare you, Stoneworth!" she roared back. "How dare you be so careless with you own child's life that you would leave him unattended with enough explosives to possibly kill himself and half his friends. How dare you coerce a scared and trusting six year old boy into lying for you so that you could make a quick galleon off two innocent men who did nothing to you except try and give you what you wanted? How dare you lie to your wife and have her file a law suit when you KNEW that the entire thing was completely Your. Fault."

A pixie fart would have sounded like a trumpet in the dead silent room. George and Sally were practically on the edge of their seats. George for his part could not stop staring at Hermione in all her glory. The way she commanded the floor, the way she didn't back down from the hostility of the opposite party, and even now the way she strategically attacked the slimy git like a lion with a gazelle was borderline awe-inspiring. He was having a very hard time connecting this authoritative woman with the timid but bossy bookworm he had always known. It was more than possible that wooing this intricately complicated witch was going to be a bit more of a challenge then he thought. A genuine expression of excitement crossed his face. If there was one thing George Weasley loved in life, it was a challenge.

Oblivious to his thoughts or facial expressions, Hermione delivered her final damning blow. "Your son was injured because of YOUR neglect, Mr. Stoneworth, not my clients'. The only reason your son is not maimed for life is because of the quick thinking of one of your party guests and thank Merlin above for that," turning to Judge Gaufrid she said. "Your Honor, as Mr. Stoneworth is unwilling to verbally cooperate I request a pensieve viewing of his memory from the event."

At this, Stoneworth flew out of his chair in a rage, "Now wait just one ruddy minute, you sodding little bint!"

"Mr. Stoneworth!" Gaufrid roared from his podium. He banged his gavel on the stand several times in attempt to regain order in his courtroom. "You will keep a civil tongue in your head in my courtroom or I'll have you held in contempt. And put your wand away, Weasley, or I'll have you in the holding cell right along side him!"

Stoneworth whipped his head around to look at George, who was very grudgingly putting his wand back into his pocket. A sharp scowl from the ginger and the blond seated next to him made the pudgy wizard gulp slightly. Turning back around, Stoneworth was met with the even more intimidating stature of Miss Granger.

"You have two options right now, Mr. Stoneworth," she said icily. "You can either tell us what really happened or the attending security officer can escort you to the next department over where your memory from that day will be extracted. Willingly or unwillingly it is completely your choice. If you remain steadfast in your version of the story and we discover differently via the pensieve, not only will you be held for two weeks at Azkaban Prison for lying to a gathered high Wizengamot jury and judge, but you will also receive a five hundred thousand galleon fine for false accusations. If you have nothing to hide then hand the memory over and we will settle the compensation over tea and biscuits in my office. If you are lying, I am giving you this one and only opportunity to say so with no responsibility of financial reimbursement for my clients at all. But you only get one chance for this. I suggest you use it wisely."

The wizard in front of her squirmed frantically under Hermione intense stare. He stole a glance at Judge Gaufrid to gage his expression. The old man's glower sat on his face as though it had been carved in stone there. He looked up into the stands where his wife was also glared just as scathingly at him. It was the tears that were threatening to run down his son's face though that finally made him turn back to Hermione with a deflated sigh.

"Alright…"

...~...~...

"That was amazing!" George practically squealed as they exited the courtroom.

"Just another day on the job," the curly haired witch said humbly. Admittedly though the edges of her mouth were threatening to break into a wide grin by the gushing praise.

"No Hermione, I mean it, you are absolutely incredibly up there. Who knew you could be so… forceful."

Hermione wasn't sure why the way he said 'forceful' made her want to blush but it did. She had won the case when Mr. Stoneworth finally confessed to being the one who had opened the box for his son, and for in turn putting the boy up to lying about what had happened. Apparently he had promised the lad a broom of his own if they won. Judge Gaufrid fined them one hundred galleons to be paid to the Ministry for wasting the courts time. True to her word though, Hermione did not demand compensation for Fred and George. There was no need in her opinion. The betrayed look on his family's faces and the humiliation at being caught trying to swindle money in front of a grand court was punishment enough. At the moment the Stoneworths were in the corner at the end of the hall with Mrs. Stoneworth loudly yelling at her husband for the embarrassment he had brought on their family. A soft tug on his robes caused George to look down into the very sheepish face of Philip Stoneworth.

"Um… M…Mr. Weasley, sir?" he stammered. "I… I wanted to say I am really sorry. I didn't mean to lie about what happened… I just didn't want my daddy getting in trouble."

"And the promise of a new racing broom probably didn't encourage you to be very honest about it either, huh kid?" George frowned. The little boy looked down at his shoes and sniffled a bit. George's frown melted away into a kind smile. "Tell ya what, Philly, you get mummy to slip some of these into your dad's coffee tomorrow and we'll call it even."

George pulled a handful of small wrapped sweets out of his pocket and handed them to the six year old with a wink. "But don't eat them yourself, or let your mum eat them. Alright?"

"Yes, Sir," Philip smiled. "Does this mean I can come back to your store sometime?"

"Only if you promise to not buy anything you shouldn't have for a few more years."

"I promise," the lad smiled and scampered back to his arguing parents clutching his new treasures closely.

Sally folded her arms and shook her head, "Do I even want to know what you just gave that child?"

"Probably not," George grinned mischievously.

"That's what I thought," she said. "Miss Granger, I'll head back to the office now if that's alright with you. I'd like to get some paper work out of the way before closing."

Hermione shook her head, "No, Sally, go ahead and take the rest of the day off. I'll finish up the paperwork. Shouldn't take more than an hour or two."

"You sure?"

"Of course, you've been a huge help on this one, go ahead and enjoy the afternoon."

"Well if you insist…" Sally shrugged and re-donned her outer cloak. "Till tomorrow then."

Hermione smiled and waved as her assistant wandered off down the hall way and rounded the corner out of sight. This left her and George standing rather awkwardly in the middle of the hall side by side. Hermione shuffled her feet for a moment before mentally scolding herself for acting like a dewy eyed school girl.

"Well then, George, I suppose I'll see you Saturday for supper…if you're going that is." she said. Hermione gave herself another mental kick to the backside. She couldn't have sounded more ridiculous then if she had asked him about the weather. Of course he would be going. It was his mother!

"Or…" he grinned widely at her. "I could see you tomorrow when you have dinner with me."

If there was a possible way to choke on air, Hermione had just discovered it.

TBC

A/N:

Well I do declare, Mr. Weasley, you may very well have just rendered our dear little Hermione speechless…

I felt bad for leaving the last chapter with a cliffhanger so I whipped this out tonight just for y'all. And as it were I am mostly over my writers block. Which means, real life obligations not withstanding, I will be posting a bit more regularly. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and are looking forward to the next. R&R!

~Chupip