Grimmauld Place was a miserable dump, if Harry was being honest with himself. He understood that they were using it for defensive reasons — it was a house maintained by a notoriously paranoid family for hundreds of years — but that didn't make it any less of a dump. A decade of disuse only further exacerbated the problem.

Mrs. Weasley was attempting to bring some semblance of cleanliness to the ex-abode, but the house seemed to be fighting her every step of the way. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had started using various cleaning spells after Sirius told them that the house had Trace suppression wards, but Harry was unable to do so due to his wand having been confiscated. Cleaning by hand alongside people using magic was bringing up some unpleasant memories of his time at the Dursleys and generally souring his mood.

He wasn't even able to exchange letters with Delphini anymore, as the various members of the Order began screening any letters he sent. He found himself understanding why Ron and Hermione were being so cagey in their letters earlier, and found himself sympathising with them. He really just wanted to speak freely with Delphini, but apparently, the security risk of writing whatever he wanted was "too great". It wasn't like Voldemort didn't already know he was with them. She might not be able to know exactly where they were due to the fidelius, but given how easily she'd found Harry at Privet Drive, he was sure she could probably narrow down their location far more than the Order would be comfortable with.

Luckily, none of the incoming letters were screened with the same level of scrutiny. It was checked for magical tampering, but the letters themselves went unread, so Delphini didn't have to censor herself. Harry wasn't actually sure if Delphini could censor herself given her extremely colourful choice of language.

Harry was surprised to find two letters when he opened the most recent envelope. One was written in Delphini's familiar scrawl, and the other was… Voldemort's? It looked similar enough to the neat writing he saw in the diary. Curious what she had to say, he looked at her letter first.

Harry,

I know that the date of your trial is approaching, and I'm sure it's weighing heavily on your mind.

Rest assured, I have several politically active associates of mine watching out for you. They may not agree with you personally, but they will look out for you if I give my word.

Unfortunately, I'm going to be incommunicado for an unknown amount of time. I'll be taking care of that mission I mentioned when we last spoke. I truly hope that I'll be able to come back, as I'm not sure if I can trust you and Delphi not to make a mess of the world should I vanish.

Take care of yourself. I hope that goes without saying, but I know from experience how easy it is to forget basic things like eating and sleeping during times of heightened emotion.

Hope to see you soon,

You know who

Well, that was… a not inaccurate way to sign her letter under the circumstances. Still, it seemed a bit obvious. Oh well, it's not like anyone would actually assume that she'd sign her letters that way, let alone be writing to him of all people.

Harry did find himself idly wondering how Voldemort was doing as he began reading Delphini's letter.

In theory, reaching the Realm of the Fair Folk was not hard. It could theoretically be accessed from anywhere in the world if one had the right method, though access had become increasingly limited as humanity had spread across the planet. Few viable entryways still remained.

To reach the Realm of the Fair Folk, one had to get lost in nameless woods. The problem was that almost every forest that was large enough to get lost in had a name. In fact, scholars of magical history theorised that many efforts to name forests and rivers were done in a deliberate attempt to weaken the Fae's ability to enter and influence reality.

Luckily, there was a trick to finding viable locations. A forest only needed to lack a consensus name to be considered nameless. So long as none of the names were used by a majority of people, then the forest was nameless.

And that was how Voldemort found herself in the enormous temperate rainforest in the Pacific Northwest. Small parts of the forest were named, but the forest as a whole was nameless and big, leaving it perfectly suited for her purposes. No efforts to instill a consensus name had ever caught on. Voldemort wouldn't be surprised if that was the work of the fae themselves, ensuring that humans would always have a way to end up in their realm.

Unsurprisingly, many mages avoided this part of the world. Old fears died hard in people who lived so long.

At least the scenery was beautiful. Voldemort had crossed several bubbling brooks and serene clearings, each one unique and gorgeous. The damp, temperate environment made it ideal growing conditions for that moss which blanketed so much of the forest and trees.

It was a step away from the havoc of society, and unlike the forests of Albania, Voldemort could actually take the time to appreciate the atmosphere, now that she was in a body of her own.

Getting lost proved to be easier said than done, though. Voldemort had a decent sense of direction, and she kept having to stop herself from reflexively casting orientation spells.

Still, she could feel a very faint tingle of magic to the air, one with an almost alien twist to it, and it was only getting stronger with time. She was sure she was going in the right direction.

As they were finishing breakfast, Ron whispered into Harry's ear.

"Hey, I'm going to tell them that you fell ill. Blame Kreacher for giving you food poisoning or something."

Harry just raised an eyebrow in response.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Look, I can tell that all this housework is just making you feel worse. Mum thinks she's doing you a favour by giving you something to keep you distracted, but it's clearly not working. I can practically hear you brooding in the bed next to me."

"It's not that bad…" Harry muttered while stabbing a few errant bits of bacon on his plate with a fork.

"Yes it is. Look, just… I'm giving you a chance to get out of doing chores. Just take it."

Harry sighed. "Fine." Maybe it would do him some good.

"Right, see you later then." Ron said as he stood up.

And that was how Harry found himself aimlessly wandering around Grimmauld place.

There was surprisingly little to do here, actually. Most of the rooms had been cordoned off for practical reasons. Many of the dangerous artefacts around the house had started to go rogue in the decade or so that it was abandoned. One room had so many enormous nests of doxies that they'd have to fumigate it just to remove the infestation.

Still, the house was much bigger than one would expect for a townhouse. There were still plenty of "safe" rooms that Harry hadn't had a chance to explore yet.

Harry opened a random door and was surprised to find Sirius staring morosely at a tapestry of some sort.

"Sirius? Are you okay?" He asked.

Sirius sighed. "Just reminiscing about worse times, I suppose."

Harry moved closer and got a better look at the tapestry. It looked like an enormous family tree covered in scorch marks.

"One of my ancient pureblood ancestors made this tapestry using blood magic." Sirius explained. "Just so the family would always have 'proof of its purity'. What a git he must have been."

Harry snickered, which seemed to lighten Sirius's mood a bit.

"You can see all of the names that were burned off of the tapestry." He continued. "All the squibs and blood traitors who brought 'shame' on the family and whatnot. Mother was very fond of doing that."

"She certainly seems petty enough." Harry commented, thinking back to the screeching portrait.

"She was worse in life, if you can believe it. She must have mellowed out in the final years of the war."

The two stood in silence for some time.

"The House of Black used to be much bigger, you know. There were around a half-dozen cadet branches when I was born. Of course, most of the family wanted to stay out of Voldemort's war, so cousin Bella went on a rampage shortly after she joined the Death Eaters." Sirius laughed. "It was one of the only good things she did, actually. Merlin knows most of those pricks deserved it."

Harry's eyes traced over the tree, seeking out Bellatrix's name. He really hoped that Delphini's name wasn't on there. It would raise far too many questions, especially given that the Order knew he was writing letters to someone of the same name.

"It's rather ironic, actually. The once great House of Black reduced to four people. Two blood traitors, a madwoman, and a bastard married to a Malfoy."

Wait. "Draco's mother is a bastard?"

Sirius nodded. "Yeah. It's basically an open secret among purebloods. It's why she married a Malfoy instead of one of the 'proper' families."

"Aren't the Malfoys purebloods, though?"

"Technically, though they're not well-regarded. The Malfoys emigrated from France around a century ago. All the wealth that Lucius has is stuff that the family has built up since, as they were fairly impoverished when they first arrived here. So yes, they're purebloods, but because they're a common house, most of the ancient families refuse to associate with them, despite their wealth."

"So, who are the ancient families?" Harry asked. "I've heard the term, but never really got any specifics on who it covers."

Sirius stared at him quizzically. "Dumbledore never told you? Well, I can't really blame him. Politics is a crock of shite and kids shouldn't be drawn into it. The so-called 'Sacred Twenty-Eight' is the group of families that originally founded the magical government way back in post-Merlinian times. It's basically a collection of rich purebloods that cemented their power and wealth for centuries to come. In the modern version of the Ministry, they form a combined legislative and judicial branch called the 'Wizengamot'. James and I always called it the 'Rich Person Posturing Club'. Neither of us were fond of it despite both of our families being members."

"Wait, dad was a member?"

"Eh, technically. The Potters have a seat on the Wizengamot, but James never had a chance to claim his seat between when his parents died and when…" Sirius trailed off. "The point is that the Wizengamot sucks. It's hereditary aristocracy, and while you do get the occasional member who genuinely wants to make the world a better place, it's mostly just a wealth circlejerk."

Harry's face contorted in disgust. "And I have to put up with that? It sounds awful."

"It really is." Sirius laughed. "And you don't have to put up with it. You could just leave your seat unclaimed. Hell, if you really want to stick it to them, you could always do what the Weasleys did and forfeit your seat. James probably would have done the same thing if he'd, well, you know…"

Harry really was curious, but decided to change the subject for Sirius's sake. "So, what was Bellatrix like?" He asked. He really did want to know more about Delphini's mother. Well, her other mother. That was bound to get confusing.

"I don't think I can properly express anything about Bellatrix. She was… fine for a while. Sort of like a protective older sibling, you know? She was wicked smart and I spent the first decade of my life wanting to be like her. After she graduated Hogwarts, though… Something changed. I wouldn't be surprised if Voldemort was involved somehow. Bellatrix became more erratic and prone to lashing out, though luckily it was only the adults who had to deal with that. Cissy, Reg, Andi, and I didn't seem to incite her wrath. We met on the battlefield several times and it always felt like she was toying with me. It was probably just her way of showing off, but I always liked to think she was still aware on some level. Enough to hold some level of lingering familial affection."

As Sirius continued to brood, Harry finally found Bellatrix on the family tree. It didn't seem that there were any signs of Delphini of Voldemort near her, although Harry lacked any skill in searching for magical tampering.

"Sometimes I wish I could turn back the clock, try to fix everything. I wouldn't even know where to start if I could, though."

Harry left Sirius to his mood and continued to explore the house. He was sure that there were other interesting secrets waiting to be found.

Delphini played a card, taking delight in Barty's souring expression as she did so. Barty drew a card. Fenrir grinned an unnervingly toothy grin and played a card. Barty scowled and drew another card.

"You're cheating." Barty said. "You have got to be cheating."

"Being an empath can't let me cheat at this game." Delphini said as she played another card. "But it does make winning all the more satisfying."

"Does that mean you've used it to cheat at other games?" Fenrir asked as he played a card.

Barty scowled and drew two cards, then played one of them.

"I mean, I can't exactly control being an empath." Delphini said as she played another card. "But I have been banned from playing poker with the other students, since it's way too easy to call people's bluffs."

"Greyback!" Lucius bellowed as he stormed into the room. "I demand that you get that rabble you call 'your associates' under control! I refuse to tolerate this blatant… vandalism of my home!"

"Tell someone who cares." Greyback said as he played a card. "I don't give a shit if your prissy pureblood sensibilities are offended. Besides, we're busy playing a game."

"Surely you have better things to do than debase yourself even further with this… muggle game." Lucius said with disgust.

"Not really." Barty said as he drew another card. "Voldie's out doing Dark Lady business, so we're just killing time."

"Yeah, and at least muggles actually have games to play." Delphini commented. "Mages have Gobstones, Exploding Snap, and Wizards chess. That's only three games, two of which explode at you, and one of which is blatantly stolen from muggles." She played another card and sat back with a satisfied grin. "Uno!"

"You have got to be cheating." Barty said as he glared at her.

Greyback just laughed and played another card.

"Yes, finally, a four!" Barty shouted as he played a card. "Now the colour is green! How do you like that, princess?"

Delphini just kept grinning triumphantly as she played her last card. "Wildcard, bitches! I win."

"You are such an arsehole!" Barty yelled. "Only arseholes save a wildcard for last!"

"Don't hate me for being better than you." Delphini said as she stood up. "Say, Lucy, where's your brat? I want to kick his arse again."

Lucius stared at her indignantly. "I beg your pardon!?"

She rolled her eyes. "He's the only duelling partner remotely close to my age, and I enjoy sparring. Thing is, he sucks. I always beat him, but that doesn't make winning any less cathartic."

Lucius's expression was transforming into one of pure bewilderment. Delphini couldn't help herself and started cackling. Euphemia always told her that she inherited Bellatrix's laugh, and if the growing discomfort on Lucius's face was anything to go by, she was right.

"You're too easy to rile up, Lucy." Barty said as he stood up. "Well, since cheater-face over here has thoroughly trounced us in Uno, I'm going to pop out to get us some food and a game that she can't cheat at."

"Don't be salty, Barty!" She yelled as he apparated out of the room.

"I get no respect from anyone around here." Lucius muttered. "This is my house, and all I ask for is a little respect."

"Well, maybe if you were more like your father, you'd get some." Greyback commented. "Abraxas was an arse, but he was a pragmatic arse. He knew when to put his grudges aside for practical reasons. Tell me, Lucy, where were you when Fudge proposed all of those anti-werewolf laws? Did your coffers temporarily run dry?"

"Foul beast." Lucius scowled.

"Pureblood ponce." Greyback countered.

Delphini groaned. This was starting to get boring. She hoped Harry was actually having fun.

Harry was surprised to see Dumbledore enter the dining room as they were finishing dinner.

"I'm terribly sorry to intrude, but is this a good time? I need to talk with Harry about his defence." Dumbledore explained. "I would have preferred to do so sooner, but Cornelius has done a surprisingly effective job leaving my hands tied."

"Now's fine." Harry said. He knew he'd have to talk about it eventually.

"Can I get you anything to eat, Albus?" Molly asked from the kitchen.

"A small bowl of soup would be nice, if you please." Dumbledor replied. "Now, Harry, why don't we begin with the basics. Where did you learn the Banishing Cage spell?"

"The restricted section." Harry lied. "I spent a lot of time last year learning various spells in preparation for the tournament. The book mentioned that it was useful against dementors, so I thought it prudent to learn."

"Why did you cast the Banishing Cage instead of the Patronus charm?"

"The dementor was about to kiss Dudley and I didn't think I could summon a happy memory in time." That was technically true.

Dumbledore seemed to accept that explanation and nodded. "Was there anyone there with you?"

"No." Harry lied. "It was just me and Dudley." There was no way he was telling anyone the truth about that.

"Superficially, it seems to be an open and shut case of self-defence." Dumbledore said. "But the fact that you used a banned spell complicates matters and puts matters into a nebulous grey area. Cornelius is sure to use this to aim for a guilty verdict. Moreover, he is preventing me from seeing any of the evidence related to the case due to my recent removal from the position of Chief Warlock. That actually leads me to the real question I want to ask you."

Dumbledore folded his hands together and leaned forward. "Do you want me to cover your defence, Harry? I am extremely well-versed in the law, but having someone who has borne the brunt of a month's worth of public slander could harm your case. Do you want an alternative representative for your trial?"

"Like who?" Harry asked. "I mean, I'd be wary of having someone I didn't know…"

"My mum could do it." Tonks offered. "She normally specialises in civil law, but she's covered some criminal cases."

"Andromeda Tonks is most certainly capable." Dumbledore said. "And while she opposes Voldemort, she has never had any direct associations with me. I can think of no one better suited for the task. Can you contact her on my behalf, Miss Tonks?"

"Roger. Just give me some time to go through all of my transportation protocols and I'll apparate over there."

"Transportation protocols…?" Harry asked.

"Miss Tonks has become increasingly paranoid about being untraceable due to her repeated run-ins with Voldemort." Dumbledore explained. "It may veer on the side of excessive, but one can never be too cautious."

Harry supposed he could see how people could find Voldemort unnerving. Granted, he mostly felt exasperated by her antics at this point. Some part of him was tempted to bond with Tonks, but the prospect of telling anyone in the Order that he had been meeting with her… Harry didn't want to imagine the fireworks.

Voldemort would stay a secret for now.

The clearing had an unusual feel to it. It was recessed into the ground from all sides, making it look almost like a crater that had formed through natural erosion. A large boulder sat in the very middle of the clearing, with a moss covered log leaning against it.

The entire area felt off. For one, a crater couldn't form through erosion in this location. The surrounding landscape was all wrong for the water flow. Moreover, that log was fresh, but there were no trees or remnants thereof for it to originate from. It didn't feel natural. It was like something scooped up whatever once lay here and left some remnants in its wake.

Or maybe it wasn't scooped up. Maybe it was erased.

Voldemort slid down the slope to enter the crater. The tingle of foreign magic was much stronger here. Something had happened in this clearing. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that something had unhappened.

She shuddered at the reminder of just what she'd be facing. She pulled a granola bar and some water out of her bag and began refueling. She was sure that she'd need the energy.

Her eyes traced over the branches that formed the canopy around the clearing. A dome seemed to extend over the clearing, and none of the branches seemed inclined to cross that invisible boundary. In fact, if she compensated for erosion, then this area was once a perfect sphere with absolutely nothing in it. Nothing, except for the boulder and the log.

Voldemort finished chewing and downed the rest of the water bottle. This place was starting to get to her, but then, wasn't that the point? She put her trash back into her bag — littering was never a good idea, but it was an especially bad idea here — and prepared to set off again.

Come to think of it, which way did she come from again?

Voldemort tried and failed to get her bearings for a few minutes. None of the trees surrounding the clearing looked like they had mere moments ago.

Well, she was lost now. That may have been her intention, but it didn't stop her from feeling unnerved, nor did it stop all of her hairs from standing on end as she pulled herself up the slope and set off into the forest once again.

Harry was rather annoyed to find himself being manhandled once again on the date of his trial. Aurors were waiting for him at the floo and rather roughly escorted him to the Defendant lobby. At least he wasn't handcuffed this time.

Harry stumbled as he was practically thrown into the lobby. "Well, the escort was better than the floo travel, at least." He muttered to himself.

"Glad to see that the Ministry didn't confiscate your sense of humour on your way in, Mister Potter. Gods know they would have tried if they could." Andromeda said drily. She was looking over a sheaf of parchments, her eyes never breaking from it as she greeted him.

"Hello, Mrs. Tonks." Harry said as politely as he could. "It's good to see you again."

"Hmmm…" She continued looking through the parchment. "I finally managed to get Fudge to give me the necessary paperwork once I threatened to slap the Ministry with an enormous corruption lawsuit. Apparently the threat of airing his dirty laundry was enough to make him actually follow the law instead of his own petty grudges."

"Ah." Was all Harry could think to say. He sat silently as Andromeda continued to look over the parchment. After several minutes, she sighed and threw the sheaf onto a nearby table.

"I will be honest with you, Mister Potter — I do not think we are going to be able to get you declared innocent. Several of the initial charges are likely to be dropped almost immediately, but you did cast a piece of highly illegal summoning magic, even if it was done in self-defence. Most of my strategies for today are going to be focused on reducing the sentencing. That said, I wouldn't be surprised if Fudge has several tricks up his sleeve. He seems to be bearing immense hostility towards you over your role in Dumbledore's so-called 'Voldemort conspiracy'. I'm going to work to minimise your role in that. Dumbledore probably won't like that, but my goal here is to see you get off as lightly as possible."

"Is that really a good idea in the long term, though?" Harry asked. "I mean, if Voldemort really is back, then should we really throw Dumbledore under the bus?"

Andromeda gave him an appraising look. "There is no good to having him escape scrutiny while you rot away in Azkaban. If I can succeed in doing that, then I will consider this trial a success."

That… really wasn't a high bar, all things considered.

The door on the opposite side to where they entered opened and a man stuck his head in. "The trial is beginning now."

Andromeda nodded. "Alright then, let's go, Harry. Remember, do not lie. There are means to detect deliberate mistruths. You can bend the truth to an extent, but any blatant lies will be caught and counted against you." She stretched and cracked her knuckles. "Now, let's do this."

Harry was surprised to find that he recognised the courtroom in question. He'd seen it in Dumbledore's pensieve last year. Eighteen people sat in various chairs in a semicircular layout — the active members of the so-called "Sacred Twenty Eight". In the very front several people sat behind a large desk — Lucius Malfoy, Fudge, a woman in searing pink, and a stern looking witch with greying auburn hair.

It was with some apprehension that Harry sat down in the chair. The chains rattled as he sat, and then, faster than he could have hoped to react, bound his arms and legs.

"Is this truly necessary, Your Honour?" Andromeda drawled.

"Actually, yes, it is." The stern looking witch said as she stood up. She was tall, perhaps only a few inches shorter than Voldemort, and rather broad shouldered. "Mister Potter has been charged with use of a Class IV Dark Art. Anyone charged with such a thing is to be bound to reduce the likelihood of any potential incidents occurring."

"Mister Potter is a minor!" Andromeda hissed. "The use of such bindings on minors has been outlawed for several hundred years!"

"Yes, but, as Mister Potter was entered into the Triwizard tournament last year, he is no longer legally considered a minor. Since the Tournament was explicitly closed to anyone not a minor, by competing in it, Mister Potter is now an adult."

"Mister Potter was forced into the Tournament against his own will, Amelia!" Andromeda shouted. "Forced by your predecessor, no less! This attempt to label him as a legal adult is nothing more than blatant means to force harsher charges on him, especially given that many advantages of legal adulthood — such as exemption from the Trace — are still barred to him until he reaches his majority! I will not stand for this!"

The witch — Amelia — scowled and waved her wand at the chair, making the chains pull away. She turned to Fudge. "Chief Warlock, read the charges."

Fudge jumped at being addressed then quickly grabbed at some parchments. "Right, uh… Harry James Potter, the initial charges against you are the following: One count of violation of the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, one count of violation of the International Statute of Secrecy, one count of illegal use of a spell banned under the 1663 Reforms on the Use of Summoning Magic, and two counts of destruction of Ministry property. Amelia, you may proceed with your analysis of the scene."

She nodded and stepped towards the middle of the room to face the Wizengamot. "Based on preliminary analysis, we can easily conclude that the first two charges are baseless. Two dementor cloaks were found in the area, meaning that Mister Potter did act in self defence and is thus not liable for violations of underage sorcery. Likewise, the only witness to the event was Harry Potter's muggle cousin. As he shares a household with Harry, he is allowed to know about magic and thus the Statute was not violated."

Fudge's face looked like he was biting a lemon, but he nodded. "Right, those charges will be struck. That does leave us with the much more serious charges, though. The use of a Class IV Dark Art carries a minimum ten year sentence in Azkaban, and that's not even getting into the loss of the two dementors. Amelia, you may proceed with questioning."

Amelia turned around to face Harry. "Mister Potter, where and how did you learn the banishing cage?"

Don't lie directly, but stretch the truth. "I had free access to the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library last year, so I could prepare for the tournament. It seemed like a useful spell to know, given that I've been targeted by dementors in the past. I'd never actually used it before attempting it on the dementor." There, all of those individual sentences were true, but they painted a different picture than the actual course of events.

Amelia stared at him for a while before asking her next question. "Why did you default to using that spell? It's a well-known fact that you're capable of casting a patronus charm. Why default to the spell that destroys dementors?"

"Because it was about to kiss my cousin, and while I don't like him, he didn't deserve to be kissed. It would have taken me too long to muster up a happy memory."

"So, rather than take the time to cast a spell you already know, you decided to take a chance and cast a spell you've never attempted before?"

"I've cast spells right on the first go all the time." Harry said. "It's easier to do in tense moments, probably due to the adrenaline."

If Amelia was surprised by that, she didn't let it show. She did pause for a moment before asking her next question. "Who all was there with you?"

"My cousin." Harry replied.

"And?"

Shit. "What makes you think someone else was there?"

"I'll be the one asking the questions here, Mister Potter. Now, was anyone there besides you and your cousin?"

"I will not have you badgering my client over unimportant details!" Andromeda yelled. "The presence of additional persons at the scene of the crime is irrelevant to this case!"

"I have evidence to the contrary!" Amelia yelled back. "Now answer the question, Mister Potter! Who else was there!?"

"No one." Harry lied.

The lighting in the room pulsed red for a second before returning to normal. Amelia just stood there and smirked. "As was just demonstrated, Mister Potter had an accomplice with him on that day. Two dementors were destroyed through the use of a banishing cage, yet only one such spell was cast from Mister Potter's wand. Moreover, he was willing to lie about the presence of another person at the scene. So, to that I ask you, just who is this mystery person?"

The nature of the forest had changed. Whereas before it was a mixture of old growth, new growth, and underbrush, now it was exclusively old growth. The ground had a cover of dead leaves and pine needles, but there were no signs of any plants growing among them. The air was unnaturally still, completely devoid of even the slightest breeze. The silence was almost deafening, only broken by the soft movement of Voldemort's footsteps on the peat-covered ground. The leaves in the trees didn't rustle because there was no wind to make them. The air was quiet because no birds or insects lived here. Voldemort was quite possibly the first living thing to come here in a very long time.

The tingle of magic in the air had taken on more of a buzzing quality, like sticking one's hand into a swarm of bees — technically safe, but still unnerving and dangerous should one make the wrong move.

She turned around. There was no sign of the path where she came from. She looked up. The trees appeared to stretch up for miles. She could see branches sticking out on occasion, but she couldn't see any signs of a canopy. She pulled out her wand and cast "Point Me", only for it to spin around uselessly.

Voldemort had no idea where she was. She knew on a fundamental level that she could not be here if she did. She was lost, and this land reached out to her and pulled her in.

Despite her best attempts to keep her bearings, Voldemort found it nearly impossible to do so. The scenery was too similar, and multiple times she was sure she was crossing her own path. Voldemort was mildly tempted to place markers to try to guide her, but she was wary of the sort of attention that would attract.

Voldemort wasn't sure how long she walked. It was impossible to tell here, in this realm where time didn't have any conventional meaning. The sky above was always a dark indigo of twilight, and the sky nearer to the horizons, on the few occasions she could see it, was a vibrant orange, like the sun was setting in every direction at once.

"Well well well, what have we here? Has one of the mortals become lost once again?"

Voldemort resisted the urge to shiver at the voice. She slowly turned around to look at the figure, and immediately had to clamp down on her emotions. Some primal part of her brain began screaming in fear at the mere sight of the thing, an ancient phobia etched into humanity's basest instincts for the sake of their own survival.

The fae itself looked like some eldritch entity did its best attempt to mold something into a human shape — though given the nature of the fae, that might not be too far off. The mouth lacked lips and was too wide, the teeth were too sharp, the irises too large, the pupils too small, the motions of it both too erratic and too fluid at the same time. The thing… saying that it moved was too generous a term to describe it. As its position changed, it grew only more uncanny, with bits of it shifting in and out of existence, including several growths that were not there originally and didn't correspond to any parts of human physiology.

"May I have your name, mortal?" It asked.

Voldemort took a deep breath. "I am an Enigma, and you may refer to me as such."

It did something with its face that could be vaguely described as a smile. "You may call me Featherbottom."

It continued to look at her with that creepy almost-smile, cocking its head to the side more than any human neck could possibly bend.

"What brings a mortal to the timeless realm of the Nameless Forest?"

"I am not mortal." Voldemort said, focusing on controlling her voice. "I have conquered death and returned from its precipice."

It moved again, and for a brief, terrible instant, it was everywhere at once, arms and teeth and eyes and horrible facsimiles of flesh blocking out any view she had of the surrounding area, and then it was over as quickly as it had begun. "Tearing yourself to pieces to spite death does not make you eternal, mortal. Now, what brings you here?"

Voldemort turned around slowly, trying not to make any sudden moves. "I seek to make an exchange with you. I require the blood of your kind to create a Philosopher's Stone, so that I might return to my true form permanently."

It leaned forward, bringing the fleshy lump that was supposed to be its nose millimetres from Voldemort's own. "Now why would you need a thing like that, my little Enigma? You have plenty of power to work with and a form that suits you. What possible need could you have for permanency?"

"I wish for a body that feels comfortable so that I don't make any mistakes on the battlefield. I need power so that I can fight on that same battlefield."

It gave an exaggerated yawn. "How boring. You're simply another mortal seeking to win a battle."

"Who says I seek to win?" Voldemort replied. "There are more ways to fight a war than by winning. The winner of the war is not important. My goals will be accomplished no matter the victor. The best plans end in victory no matter the outcome."

It stared at her for a while, its expression inscrutable, before it attempted to smile again. "Very well, I shall give you what you seek, but I have a demand to make in turn. Remove the blade of cold iron and the phial of quartz from your bag."

Voldemort did so, feeling very glad that she didn't arm herself to the teeth. A reality anchor probably would have helped her nerves, but if a creature such as this was so acutely aware of what she had with her… "Do I get to know the nature of your demand before I accept?"

Its attempted smile grew wider. "Now where would be the fun in that?" It grabbed the items and used the cold iron blade to hack off the last knuckle of its left index finger. The wound lacked bone or any kind of discernible flesh, and was a luminescent gold instead of red. Slowly, the luminescent gold material dripped into the phial, its texture more like a gel than a liquid. When it was done, it sealed the phial and handed it over, the "wound" on its finger magically vanishing. "Now I get to make my demand, little Enigma."

Voldemort put the phial into her bag and turned to face it. "What do you ask of me in return?"

Its smile grew so wide that it practically split its face. The teeth weren't just too sharp — they were too plentiful. The atmosphere in the area shifted, and it took Voldemort a moment to realise why. Identical mouths were appearing on every surface. Some in the trees, some on the ground, and others just floating suspended in the air. It was everywhere, and it was everything. Voldemort clutched her head in a vain attempt to stop the headache she was getting as reality warped and rippled around her. An enormous mouth, much bigger than the others, metres in width opened up beneath her, and as she began to fall into its gaping maw, all of the mouths spoke together in discordant harmony.

"DON'T. BE. BORING!"

Fear consumed her as it felt like she was being swallowed by the void, only for reality to reassert itself as Voldemort landed. She was back in the forest. The real forest. She was sitting on the ground a few metres from a road. The sky was overcast and a light mist of rain was coming down. The trees had actual tops, and small plants grew across the ground. She'd even landed in a patch of… poison ivy. Dammit. She'd need to get home to take care of that. Voldemort gingerly took out her wand, trying not to spread the agitant across the handle, and apparated away.

"Harry Potter is under no legal obligation to share the name of this person!" Andromeda insisted. "Charging him with obstruction of justice over this is a sham!"

"Knowledge of banishing cages is an imminent threat to the security of Azkaban prison!" Amelia countered. "She-who-must-not-be-named's use of that spell in the last war allowed her to compromise the prison in less than an hour! My brother died trying to defend it! I am not about to let such a threat go uninvestigated!"

"The fact that the security of our prison is so wholly dependent on exposing the prisoners to soul-sucking, happiness-devouring abominations is not the fault of Mister Potter!"

"Upgrades to the prison have been underway for the past decade, but work is slow, and dementors have not yet been made redundant. The fact is that Mister Potter possesses knowledge that, at the current time, poses a major threat to the rule of law, as does this unknown party who was with him at the time."

"He used the spell in an act of self defence! I should be asking you what two of the prison's guards were doing in Surrey, an area that is nowhere remotely near Azkaban!"

"If I may?" A new voice piped up. Harry was surprised to see that pink-clad woman next to Fudge standing. "Surely you aren't asserting that this was an attempt on Mister Potter's life, are you?"

"I am, undersecretary." Andromeda practically spat the title. "Unless you have some explanation for how two dementors ended up in a simple muggle neighbourhood that just happens to be where Harry Potter lives?"

"That's Senior Undersecretary to you, thank you very much. The Ministry has maintained a firm grip on the control of dementors for centuries." The undersecretary continued as though she was talking to a young child and not a licensed law-witch. "I certainly hope you aren't insinuating that the Ministry no longer has control over them."

"I'll insinuate whatever I want, Dolores. And I do not appreciate your blatant attempts to bait me and my client into speaking about she-who-must-not-be-named. That matter is not relevant to this case!"

"The hell it doesn't!" Dolores hissed, her polite façade melting in an instant. "That little brat is guilty of sedition! He's been undermining the authority and integrity of the Ministry for the past month! For all we know, he made this up, too!"

"You are out of order, Dolores!" Amelia yelled at her. "I will not have you making a farce of this trial to satisfy your own petty grudges!"

"Perhaps we should ask the esteemed members of the Wizengamot?" Fudge proposed smarmily. "After all, if they rule it to be relevant, then it must be properly investigated."

Both Amelia and Andromeda looked extremely put out at that, if one were to phrase it politely. Harry thought it would be more accurate to say that they both looked pissed off.

"The motion passes by a margin of eleven – seven." Fudge said with a smirk. "Mister Potter, do you continue to persist in your belief that She-who-must-not-be-named has returned?"

Harry's eyes widened as he was put on the spot. How the hell was he supposed to answer that?

He didn't want to talk about what happened that night. Partially because he could tell that Fudge was using it in an attempt to discredit him. If he saw that Harry truly believed it, he'd just use it to further the already ongoing slander. More than that, though, Harry didn't want it coming to light that he'd been spending time with her, and also… He enjoyed spending time with her. He liked doing normal things like going out to lunch and talking about school and being praised for doing well.

It felt wrong to admit it, but it was the closest he'd ever come to feeling like he had family. On some level she was a monster, but she was also so nice, even when she didn't need to be.

"Answer the question, Mister Potter." Fudge repeated. "Do you persist in this belief or not?"

"I don't know!" Harry yelled. "I don't know what I do or don't believe anymore! Everything always felt like it was so simple and now it's not and I don't know what to do or what's right anymore, and I just want it all to stop so I can try and think and make sense of it but I can't and I don't… I don't…"

Harry took several deep breaths, trying to calm his ragged breathing, trying to regain control of himself. Once it started coming out, he couldn't…

He wiped at his eyes, surprised to find that they were wet. Why were they…?

"If I may speak?" Lucius said from where he was sitting.

"Yes, go ahead Lucius." Fudge replied.

Lucius stood up and swept into the middle of the room. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Wizengamot, while I may not have the pleasure of sitting on this august body, I do my best to maintain as much political activism as one of my stature can reasonably-"

"Get to the point, Lucius." One of the figures in the Wizengamot replied.

Lucius sighed. "Very well then. The Boy-who-lived is obviously under considerable stress. Between being forced into the Triwizard Tournament by Barty Crouch and the subsequent amount of intense public scrutiny he was put under, both by the media and by his peers, it seems obvious that Mister Potter has had some kind of stress-induced mental breakdown, particularly around the time of the third task. I ask you then, why are we punishing him for such things? Should we not be trying to help him heal? Yes, I may have a personal bias in this matter — I owe Mister Potter a great debt for his role in freeing me from the imperius curse that forced me to serve She-who-must-not-be-named. But I ask you all, who are we as a society if this is how we treat our most vulnerable members? With scorn and punishment instead of sympathy and understanding?"

Some faint murmurs could be heard coming from the gallery and the Wizengamot.

"As such, I am proposing that Harry Potter be placed on probation and made to see the mind healer that he so desperately needs. Moreover, I propose an immediate evaluation of his living arrangements. While the specifics aren't known, it's no secret that there is great animosity between Harry Potter and the people that are forced to be his guardians. Whatever environment they have arranged for him is clearly not suitable for his growth as a wizard, and I'm sure that Magical Child Services can find a suitable alternative."

"Yes…" Fudge muttered. "Yes, yes that could work. That's a truly splendid idea, Lucius."

"I object to this." Dumbledore's voice rang out from the gallery. "Mister Potter was placed in the care of his aunt and uncle so that he might be safe. The wards that protect him while he's there are stronger than any alternatives."

"What good is keeping him protected if he isn't safe, Dumbledore? He may be safe from those outside who wish him harm, but what about those within the house? Is he protected from them, too?" Lucius asked.

Dumbledore didn't answer immediately, but he did eventually reply. "The wards there are based on the sacrifice Lily made for her child, and they are the only ones I've ever found that are incapable of being circumvented by Voldemort's infamous Blinking skill."

"She-who-must-not-be-named is dead, Dumbledore!" Fudge insisted. "Moreover, you have no right to intrude on this trial, nor do you have any say in Harry Potter's living arrangements now that you are no longer Chief Warlock. Interrupt again and I'll have you removed from the courtroom!"

"I, for one, am in favour of Mister Malfoy's proposal." Andromeda said before muttering. "Never thought I'd say that." She turned back towards the courtroom. "Lucius's proposal is singularly sensible, especially for helping someone of Mister Potter's age and disposition. Give him time to heal and recover."

"Harry Potter still has the name of someone with knowledge of a highly illegal spell that threatens the integrity of the prison system!" Amelia yelled.

"Amelia, knowing how to cast a spell is not a crime." Andromeda insisted. "And Mister Potter is under no obligation to tell you. He has his rights."

"Yes, yes…" Fudge blustered. "Well then, all those in favour of Lucius's proposal?"

Some shuffling happened in the Wizengamot as Fudge looked over the votes.

"Eleven in favour, six against, and one abstain. Okay, we'll just file the necessary paperwork… Dolores, can you get on that? Well, with all of this business reaching a conclusion of sorts, I suppose we're all dismissed."

People slowly began to mill out, but Harry just sat there. He wasn't used to losing his cool like that. Even this summer, he'd managed to keep a lid on those emotions. Why were they all making themselves known now..?

"Come along." Andromeda said, gently lifting Harry by the arm. "I'm sure you'd like to get out of here, but we should probably get you to the washroom first. The press is going to be all over you in the lobby, and even Dumbledore can only do so much to abate them. I'll wait outside."

Harry quickly ducked into the room and immediately began splashing water on his face. He nearly jumped when a flush came from one of the stalls behind him and Lucius Malfoy walked out.

"Harry Potter. I hope you're doing alright?"

Harry grabbed a paper towel and began to dry off his face. "Yeah, I'm… yeah."

"I want you to appreciate what happened back there. Of the eleven people who voted to agree with my proposal, seven owed me major favours. Had I not been the one making the proposal, I doubt it would have been nearly as well received. Cornelius would have been dead set on sending you to Azkaban, even more so if I had not been deflecting most of his focus from you to Dumbledore."

"But… I didn't do anything wrong." Harry said.

"Indeed you did not." Lucius Malfoy affirmed. "You were threatened and responded to that threat, albeit slightly disproportionately. That spell is illegal purely because it is the sole weakness of Azkaban, and the Ministry is often more concerned with cementing its own power over anything else. Centuries worth of corruption tend to do that."

"But… people just accept that? Why is no one doing anything about it?"

Lucius stared at him. "Someone is."

Oh.

"You made a good choice in choosing Andromeda to defend you." Lucius said as they left the room. "She may have her… proclivities, but she is still very talented."

Harry opened the door to Dumbledore and Andromeda talking.

"-don't care about that, Albus!" Andromeda hissed. "I did my job, and that's that."

"Lucius." Dumbledore said, his attention drifting. "What were you doing in there?"

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "What do you think? It's the nearest washroom to the courtroom, and I had to relieve myself."

"Hmmm…" Dumbledore hummed. "Well, I suppose we had all best be on our way. If we move quickly, we may avoid the worst of the press."

"I might wait a while, then." Lucius said as they walked off. "I do love being in glamour shots."

Voldemort set her bag down on the table. Barty surveyed her appearance before asking the obvious question. "What happened to you?"

"I am never, ever, ever doing something like that again." Voldemort insisted. "Fuck being brave. I'll take being a coward any day if it means avoiding… that."

"You… actually got it then?"

"Yes, I did." Voldemort said with a hint of pride. "Now get me some poison ivy treatment. Fae are arseholes."

A/N (Tendra): I'm trying to maintain a regular update schedule and keep up a buffer. It's… sort of working. I'll try and maintain this for as long as possible.

This chapter proved challenging to write for multiple reasons. I had to deal with two genres I've never written before (courtroom drama and horror), my plan for the chapter changed halfway through, then I wrote part of it while high and part of it while severely sleep deprived. Blame any quality issues on those.

Anyone familiar with my fics knows that I like to give the adult characters competence upgrades. That ended up being why Andromeda took over Harry's defence, as I realised as soon as I started writing the scene with Dumbledore that he'd realise the pitfalls of him acting as Harry's representative.

Amelia Bones often acts as a Big Good in fics, especially in Dumbledore bashing fics. I get tired of seeing the same character archetypes, hence why we see a more hardass Amelia focused more on the letter of law than the spirit.

Fun facts about Fae! Fae aren't three dimensional! They are in fact multidimensional eldritch beings, and the most you ever see of them is a three dimensional cross section that looks like an uncanny valley human.

SlenderGnome on ffn has posted several omakes for this fic. They're good, and you should check them out. Check out his other stuff, too. He's pretty talented.

For early access to chapters like this, join my discord at 6YwQewK.

E/N (Xgenje): I caught a few "sleep deprived" errors. But this was mostly solid before I even had a chance to touch it.

There is a major reference. See if you can find it ;)

E/N (Foadar): Solid indeed. Only small suggestions here.