Upon a directive from the Minister, Harry gave the Prophet several quotes about the Callahan case in the large pressroom adjoining the Ministry Atrium. He tried to be forthright, but there was certain information he felt best to leave obscure.

"Do you know what spells Callahan used on the Muggles, Chief Potter?" a doughy reporter asked.

"I'm not a liberty to discuss an ongoing investigation," he said for the fourth time.

"Chief Potter," said a young female journalist, "do you know who the government prosecutor will be against Callahan?"

Hermione's set, determined face flashed through his mind.

"That's a question for the Director of Magical Law Enforcement. I leave it to his good judgment."

Harry gathered his things in a darkened office. It was past ten o'clock and two dozen Aurors remained on duty in their cubicles. As Harry walked through the deserted Atrium towards the massive stone fireplaces on either side if the hall, he looked up towards DMLE, which had several offices facing out onto the Atrium. While Hermione's did not, he thought he saw a faint glimmer through the windowpanes that corresponded to her office down the hall.

Minutes later, Harry stood in his own hearth. He was shaking the soot off his robes when he heard footsteps.

"Hey, Gin."

"I wish you'd told me you'd be this late," she said, briefly embracing him. "Mum had to watch Lily while I was at the Tornadoes match."

"Sorry," he said, rubbing at his eyes. "I didn't plan on staying late. It wasn't much trouble for your mum, was it?"

"No, it was fine," she shrugged. "Are you hungry? Mum left some kind of casserole."

"No, I'm all right. I'm knackered."

Ginny nodded and he moved towards the stairs before stopping abruptly.

"Oh, I forgot to mention–"

But Ginny cut him off with a gasp. "Oh, Harry! How could I forget to tell you? We got an owl from Albus. He was sorted into Gryffindor! Isn't that wonderful?"

Harry grinned widely, the news cutting through his fatigue. "That's fantastic."

"Poor thing," she grinned. "So worried he'd end up in Slytherin. I think your little talk on the platform calmed his nerves. Did you really ask the Sorting Hat to be put in Gryffindor?"

"Sure, I asked," he said. "I was terrified of Slytherin myself."

"So the Hat was actually thinking of putting you in Slytherin?"

"I think it was," Harry said honestly, a little bemused. He thought he'd told Ginny that.

"Thank Merlin, it didn't," she said, crinkling her face distastefully.

Harry had to smile at the childlike gesture. "Oh, it's not that bad now. Albus would've managed."

"Please," she said, closing her eyes. "Don't even think about it."

He chuckled softly.

"Oh, and Rose is in Gryffindor. Good on the Hat to keep our family together."

"Great," Harry smiled. "I'll write to Albus before I leave. I'll likely be on assignment all day tomorrow, so don't worry about dinner."

"On assignment?" Ginny repeated, perking up.

Harry hadn't been on an assignment in several weeks. The word usually meant he couldn't give her any details.

"This doesn't have to do with the Callahan situation, does it?" she asked curiously "It's been incredibly hard to get the details on that case."

Harry looked at his feet, thinking of the vague comments he'd given her Prophet colleagues that morning.

"Yeah, I know. In any case, I'll be away most of tomorrow. Hermione will be too."

"Oh. She's working on it too?"

He nodded. "She's likely lead, actually. I had lunch with her today. She's pretty passionate about this one."

Ginny may have rolled her eyes just slightly. "She would be."

Harry, not sure what to make of that, said, "Er, yeah—so don't worry about dinner. Just leave me some of your mum's stuff."

Ginny nodded, turning back towards the kitchen. "Sure. Wake me before you leave?"

Harry promised and he kissed her goodnight. Her hair smelt like the Quidditch pitch and fresh grass.

Harry woke at half past five. He fumbled for his glasses and slipped them on. Ginny's slim frame lay several feet away. Their bed was a 17th century estate bed with large ivory hangings. It was notable for its size—about 16 feet across. Harry once measured that it took eight full roll-overs to travel from end to end. This morning, Harry moved to Ginny's side and placed a kiss on her temple.

"Gin, I'm leaving."

She mumbled incoherently.

Harry kissed her again and she moved her face away. He smiled. Ginny was not a morning person. Despite her always telling him to wake her before he left, she was usually too groggy to kiss him goodbye.

After a shower, coffee, and a piece of toast, Harry was in his office by a quarter past six. He packed some files in his attaché and walked down the corridor towards the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He found Hermione and the head of the Department, John Lakey, waiting for him.

"Mornin', Harry," the director greeted brightly.

Lakey was a tall, husky man with ever-present stubble on his round, yet somehow well-defined, face. He was some twenty years older than Hermione and Harry and was a renowned legal scholar. He was one of the intellectual founders of Muggle protection theory and consequently had his enemies among the pureblood establishment, despite the fact that he was a pureblood stretching back seven generations. It was well known Hermione was his protégé.

As Lakey grasped his hand, Harry glanced at Hermione. She was dressed much less formally than the day before—dark green trousers and a tweed jacket over a cotton shirt. Lakey waited until Harry kissed her cheek before he spoke.

"I hope you don't mind it'll only be my people at Stonehouse today, Harry," he said. "Certainly you understand that since he is no longer an Auror this is out of your jurisdiction. Hermione insisted you remain involved, however."

Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I appreciate that, John. Once the details of the case are released, there'll likely be an inquiry and an overview of Auror training. My involvement now could help ease the transition."

Lakey smiled generously. "I'm happy to help you any way I can. You're the most reasonable Chief of the Auror Department I've ever worked with," he laughed. "I'd break my wand before I jeopardize your position...though, the world would have to go raving mad before Harry Potter is pushed from the Auror Department."

Harry gave a forced smile. He never took his selection as Auror Chief for granted, but it was a running joke across the Ministry that his position was a lifetime appointment after the defeat of the Dark Lord.

Hermione interjected. "Harry, John and I would like to give you a rundown of the timeline from here on out. After our evaluation of Callahan today, he needs to secure an attorney for his arraignment, which will be in four days' time. We'll get the court date then and move from there. Obviously that means the details of the case will be made public and we'll have to prepare for the fallout. We've already made the decision that Callahan will be tried in the Gloucestershire Division of the Wizengamot, so as to avoid the politics of a trial here in London."

"That's fine," Harry said. "I'm planning to put a media blackout on the AD. No Aurors will be speaking to the press. Does that sound fair?"

"It's more than I could ask," Lakey replied. "Thank you."

"Should we get on with it, then?"

Lakey nodded. "We'll be apparating to the same location as last time," he said. "The holding cells at Stonehouse. You can take Hermione, as she's never been…"

Harry moved to her side and took her hand. She looked slightly nervous and, for the briefest moment, Harry had the impression of layered memory—of her looking at him like that, years and years ago, when it had just been them and the night and all its terrors.

Barely a second later, Harry and Hermione were standing in the damp interior of an underground room. There was a small pop behind them and Lakey appeared.

"All right, follow me," the director said, leading them forward. They kept their hands locked together until their eyes adjusted to the darkness.

At the end of the corridor, two wizards in dark robes spoke lowly to one another and sipped steaming cups of coffee.

"Director," said the younger of the two, "he woke up fifteen minutes ago. He should be presentable for your interview in a few minutes."

"Thank you, Stahls. I take it Ms. Wilkes will be arriving shortly?"

Harry turned sharply, rounding on Lakey. "You called her for this?"

"I had to," Lakey said, with an offhand glance. "It's the only avenue we haven't tried. Stahls?"

But the younger man had been staring at Harry, as though transfixed. The director's words seemed to bring him back to himself. "Sir—yes, she should be here momentarily."

"We'd better wait until she arrives, then."

Lakey turned from the two lawyers and Harry and Hermione followed him a short distance away.

"You didn't tell me this would be a magical evaluation," Harry whispered sharply. "How did you get him to consent to this?"

"He hasn't yet," said Lakey, holding up a placating hand as Harry opened his mouth furiously, "but we're confident he will. If he doesn't, then we won't proceed, will we? Remember it's our job to consider these sorts of things."

Hermione touched his arm.

"Please don't worry," she said softly. "We have to know what we're dealing with, don't we?"

He glanced at her, his anger ebbing like a wave pulled back. "Right, but a magical evaluation…this won't be well-received in the Auror Department."

"We'll release that information slowly," said Lakey. "Not in the arraignment filing papers—"

The older wizard stopped, glaring at something behind Harry. Just then, Harry felt a tap on the shoulder. It was the younger lawyer. Stahls.

"Mr. Chief Harry Potter sir," he said somewhat breathlessly. "I was wondering if I might have your autograph, sir? I've a daughter and son at home who'd be thrilled, you see? For some reason, you're their hero. Not that you need a reason! I certainly don't, I mean…I'm sure you get it all the time. Please, if it's not too much trouble?"

"Don, really?" said Hermione.

Harry laughed at the look on her face. "Sure. I'd be happy to."

The counselor produced parchment from his robes so fast Harry would've missed it if he blinked. Lakey was chuckling now.

"They're names are Al and Eugenie," said Stahls. "If you could put something in about keeping on their schoolwork and minding their mother, that'd be grand."

"Sure," Harry said. "I have a son named Al. He was sorted into Gryffindor just yesterday."

Stahls looked like he might just collapse with that nugget of confidence from Harry Potter. Harry could feel Hermione watching him and, when he handed back the parchment, the young lawyer stared at it and, for one horrifying moment, Hermione thought he'd bow.

"That's enough now," said Lakey curtly. "She's coming."

Stahls retreated to his desk and Harry, Hermione, and Lakey turned to the far end of the corridor. The silhouette of a slight woman emerged from the wet blackness. She was shorter than Hermione—half Asian, half white with short black hair cut in a straight line and high cheekbones. She wore a black cloak over equally black clothing.

"Annie," Lakey said, bending low to kiss her cheek. "Thanks for coming. We'll get started now."

The witch stopped, her large eyes landing on Harry. Then, her face broke into a knowing smile, which transformed her beautiful face into something truly stunning.

"Harry," she said, voice a soft lilt. "How nice."

He nodded stiffly.

"You haven't summoned me in so long, I was wondering if you'd forgotten me?"

"Not at all," he grunted. "We just…haven't needed your services for some time."

"Of course," she breathed, "but every so often I prove myself useful..."

She trailed off, following Lakey down the hall. She had barely glanced at Hermione, who wore a slightly sour expression.

Harry cleared his throat. "Reckon you haven't met her before?"

"No. Is she always like that?"

"Yes."

Harry and Hermione followed the pair down the hall. As they passed the desk with the two counselors, Harry heard their whispered argument.

"I can't believe you did that," said the older one.

"Shut up. I got it, didn't I?"

Lakey escorted them down another darkened hallway, this one lined with cells on one side. Lakey stopped before the largest. The lighting was dim, but Harry could make out Callahan's body lying on a narrow bed.

"Incendio," said Lakey and the chandelier above them ignited.

Callahan sat up slowly. He wore the clothes he'd been arrested in, now crumpled after several nights' sleep. Usually clean-shaven, Callahan had noticeable gold stubble on his cheeks and his light blond hair stuck up at strange angles.

"Mr. Callahan," Lakey said, "we're here for the final evaluation before your arraignment. Please stand against the wall."

Callahan stood. Still blinking in the sudden light, it took a moment for his eyes to focus on Harry. When they did, he smiled faintly and took several steps back, eyes locked on his superior.

Lakey pointed his wand at the cell door and it swung on its hinges. He conjured five chairs, filling the space. Harry, Hermione, Lakey, and Wilkes seated themselves in a row, Callahan facing them in the fifth.

"Now, Mr. Callahan," Lakey began, "you have been formally charged under Article Nine of the Wizard Criminal Code of Great Britain with the severe mistreatment of Muggles. This includes violations of the Humane Treatment of Human Species and Variants Act, circa 1732, and the Muggle Protection Act of 2008. The charges include unauthorized entry into a private residence; the use of Legilimency without a warrant; the illegal use of Legilimency on two minors; the unwarranted use of Legilimency on Muggles; two counts of the use of an Unforgivable Curse, the Cruciatus; two counts of using an Unforgivable Curse, the Cruciatus, on a Muggle; four counts of the unauthorized use of an Obliviation spell; four counts of the use of an Oblivation spell at level five severity with the threat of irreversibility.

"You have the right to the legal counselor of your choice," the director continued. "Your stated beneficiaries are entitled to earnings compensation for the duration of your trial. You are allowed to seek visitation with your family and with a social worker. Do you understand the charges and the rights bestowed on you from wizarding law?"

"Yes," Callahan replied.

"All right." Lakey paused, sharing a glance with Hermione. "Do you have a counselor for your defense?"

"No."

"Would you like the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to appoint a counselor?"

"Sure."

"All right," said Lakey. "We've received offers from three private counselors. Would you like us to leave you with their information so you—"

"You can choose," the former Auror said calmly.

Harry felt Hermione stiffen at his side.

"Mr. Callahan," Lakey said, uncomfortable now, "it is advised that you choose your own counselor."

"And I am saying you can choose for me."

Lakey shifted. Callahan looked perfectly at ease, reclining in his straight-backed chair, ankles crossed. A pulse of heat seemed to be radiating from Hermione.

"All right. As you wish. Moving on—the social worker appointed to your case is Ms. Gertrude Staub. She will be making daily visits before your arraignment and bi-weekly visits thereafter. She can answer any questions you have about incarceration conditions, food, visitation, etc."

Callahan nodded.

"Do you have any questions for me?" Lakey asked.

Callahan looked directly at Harry. "No."

"Thank you, Mr. Callahan. That concludes the first portion of our evaluation. Now…" He licked his dry lips. "Now, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would like to request a magical evaluation of your person. Ms. Granger?"

Callahan turned his eyes to Hermione for the first time. Harry may have imagined it, but he thought he saw recognition there.

"Mr. Callahan," she said, "given the obscure nature of your case and the inability to obtain eye-witness accounts of the incident, we are requesting a magical evaluation be conducted by a licensed practitioner, Ms. Annaisa Wilkes." Hermione gestured stiffly to the slight woman beside Harry. "With your consent, we will conduct the procedure presently—"

Callahan cut her off. "Sure, Granger. I have no problem with that."

Harry felt something seize in his gut, like a previously unknown reflex. The malice Callahan was able to load into that one word—Granger—sent a bead of electricity up Harry's spine. He felt the sudden urge to stand, to pull his best friend behind him.

Hermione seemed unmoved. "I am required to tell you what the process entails. Ms. Wilkes will first place you in a magical coma. She will then use a combination of a priori Legilimency and mental deconstruction to evaluate your person. This will allow us to determine whether you have been placed under any enchantment or curse that may have influenced your decision-making the night of August 29th. The process will last for approximately thirty minutes and you will likely need to rest for the remainder of the day to regain full functionality. Do you understand this process? If so, please either reject or accept the proposal. Please understand you are under no compulsion to accept."

"I accept."

"All right," she said, tone quite clipped.

Hermione and Lakey stood. Harry followed suit, feeling jumpy.

"Annie, I leave it to you," Lakey said. "We'll be right outside."

Hermione brushed past both men and stepped into the corridor. Harry followed more slowly after Lakey, feeling Callahan's eyes on him. When Harry stepped into the hall, he saw Hermione and Lakey standing further down. Lakey had both his hands on Hermione's shoulders and had brought his head down to her eye level. He seemed to be talking sternly to her.

Harry turned back to the cell. Annie had her wand out and was waving it in front of Callahan, who watched disinterestedly. Slowly, though, his mouth began to slacken. His arms fell to his side and his ankles uncrossed. Finally, his head fell backwards. Annie seemed to be shaking, both arms raised aloft. Harry heard a faint whirring sound, like an invisible current of electricity filling the cell.

Harry had seen magical evaluations performed several times before, especially as a new Auror. He'd even conducted a few himself. In the weeks and months after Voldemort's fall, the Dark Lord's supporters used a wide variety of excuses to justify their actions under his reign. A large number of the perpetrators, particularly those who carried out the most heinous acts, claimed to be under the Imperious Curse, the favorite excuse after Voldemort's first fall from power.

But sorcery had changed in the intervening years between the First and Second Wizarding Wars. A new technique from America had made its way to England—a form of mental examination that could determine whether an individual was under an Imperious Curse. The procedure had several advantages. For instance, in comparison to Veritaserum, a magical evaluation was vastly superior. People under the Imperious Curse were impervious to Veritaserum. The nature of the Unforgivable Curse allowed individuals to lie even under its influence. A magical evaluation, on the other hand, could account for such discrepancies and determine whether the individual was placed under any curse whatsoever. Needless to say, the procedure released a flood of evidence that led to convictions—half the cells in Azkaban were filled in such a manner.

However, the procedure came under fire when it started being used on a more casual basis—on petty criminals, not war criminals.

The Prophet's editorial page characterized it as an insidious American import that was corrupting the humanitarian outlook of the British wizarding order. In response, the Wizengamot passed new regulations to control the procedure. All practitioners of magical evaluations had to be licensed and the expressed consent of the accused had to be obtained. Since the procedure could be performed indefinitely on a subject (to the individual's first use of magic as a child), temporal limits were put in place to restrict examinations to only a few hours before the alleged crime.

The temporal limits obscured the background of the crime, however, including whether the accused received support from other wizards, which could have led to more convictions. Now, the procedure was used to merely determine the presence of an Unforgivable Curse, not to piece together a case history or search for additional people to hunt down. The temporal restrictions faced fierce resistance from the Aurors, including Harry. In those days, the threat of a post-Voldemort uprising among his remaining supporters was a palpable threat. To Harry, and many others in the Department, the procedure was an unfortunate necessity.

That being said, Harry disliked magical evaluations.

The few times he had conducted them were incredibly uncomfortable. It somewhat akin to watching a murky filmstrip in reverse. The magical details were exceptionally sharp, however. Harry could vicariously feel every spell the individual had cast and, since all of the individuals he had conducted the procedure on were dark wizards, the experience was understandably painful. When Harry took charge of the Auror Department five years ago, he stipulated that every Auror who wanted to use of the procedure had to seek permission from Harry, the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the Head of the Department of Inculcation of Wizarding Values. Understandably, the red tape led to a decrease in the procedure's use.

And here Harry was, watching the procedure again for the first time in years. He didn't like to imagine the reaction several Aurors would have when they found out Callahan had been subjected to a magical evaluation. And, Harry had to admit, he felt uncomfortable watching an individual he had always been friendly with undergo such an invasive process…

Hermione was standing beside him and Harry started, shaken from his thoughts. Glancing at her, he noticed her face, so flushed moments before, was uncommonly pale. Instinctively, he brought his arm around her shoulders.

"All right?"

She leaned into him slightly. "I'm fine."

They were quiet for a moment, but Hermione sensed the question pushing at his lips. "He told me to get a hold of myself," she sighed. "He's probably right. I felt like I was boiling in there. I couldn't quite see straight."

He rubbed her arm. "You were great. You don't have to apologize for being passionate about this. You're prosecuting him after all."

She nodded. "I didn't give in on one thing though."

"What?"

"John wanted to select the most inexperienced of the three counselors who offered to defend Callahan. I can't agree to that. We have to give him the best lawyer possible or I'd be giving myself an undue advantage. It wouldn't be right."

Harry nodded mechanically, but felt his stomach tighten. He understood Hermione's desire for a fair fight but, in that moment, he really wanted her to face an inexperienced lawyer—someone who could make this an open-and-shut case. It wasn't that he thought she couldn't win—Hermione had one of the best trial records in the Department. No, it was that he couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was wrong...that she was putting herself in danger...

"Anyway, I know the counselor we've chosen," she went on. "Not personally, but by reputation. He's a renowned trial lawyer who retired five years ago. He's a known skeptic of pro-Muggle legislation, too. It won't be easy, but this case is worth it, don't you think?"

Harry nodded. If possible, his stomach coiled tighter.

Abruptly, Hermione changed the subject.

"So, this Wilkes woman—how d'you know her?"

"Oh," said Harry, removing his arm. "She, er...the AD contracts her services sometimes, just for this procedure. I haven't seen her in about two, three years? That was the last time we had a case involving a Death Eater…"

"Oh," she said quietly. "I thought you knew her personally."

Harry laughed, awkward. Always so perceptive; it was impossible to hide anything from her.

"I did," he admitted, "when I was younger. Much younger. You remember when Ginny and I broke up?"

"I remember."

"Yeah, well. We—er—saw each other for a while. Or slept together for a while, if I'm being accurate."

"Ah," said Hermione. "That explains the flirting."

"Yeah, she's sort of like that," Harry smiled ruefully. "Fortunately, we don't run into each other often."

"The AD isn't doing magical evaluations much at all now, I reckon?"

Harry nodded. "Apart from the controversy, her services are pretty expensive. From what I've heard, she's mostly contracted out to the MACUSA and several less savory countries that don't have the rules we have on magical evaluations."

"I see."

They stood in silence for some time, watching the subject of their conversation. Annie's hands were still suspended in the air, almost like a marionette, and her slim body swayed back and forth. Callahan was unchanged.

Hermione wrapped her arm around his waist. "How do you feel about this?" she asked quietly. "I mean...I'm trying to see things objectively. I'm trying to understand who this man is, how he could've possibly done what we're accusing him of."

Harry stared fixedly at Callahan, his large hands grazing the floor.

"In all honesty," he said after a moment, "I don't like watching this, Hermione. I've known him for eight years. He's...charismatic, persuasive. That makes him a pretty effective Auror. He was sent to the Minister of Bulgaria a few years ago to extradite an ex-Voldemort supporter. He did the work of two Aurors easily. I don't know what else I can say…he was a good Auror until this."

Hermione nodded. "He never showed any personal or professional shortcomings?"

"Nothing that would've suggested him capable of this," Harry said truthfully. "He could be a bit stubborn about his orders. He hated busywork, thought it was beneath his skill as a wizard. But that's a common personality trait in Aurors. Perhaps it bothered him more than others…"

They fell silent again and, after a moment, they heard Lakey walking back to them. They separated automatically.

"I've got a minute left," Lakey said, checking his pocket watch. "Let's get inside."

They filed back into the cell and Lakey vanished their empty chairs with a flick of his wand. The whirring sound Harry heard earlier had faded to a distant buzz. Callahan's eyelashes trembled and Annie stood solidly on the ground again. After several seconds, however, Annie pitched forward and almost collapsed to the floor. Harry caught her elbow to steady her. She opened her eyes and clung to Harry, rather dramatically Hermione thought. Lakey went to Callahan, who hadn't moved. He gingerly checked his pulse.

"Harry," he said, "help me move him to the bed."

Releasing Annie, Harry picked up Callahan's feet and they carefully replaced him on the cot.

Callahan seemed to come-to as they laid him down and he raised a hand to his eyes, as though blocking out a harsh light.

"Ss—all right," Callahan muttered.

"Yes, it's all right," Lakey said, leaning over him. "How are you feeling?"

Callahan stared at Lakey without answering. Then, his eyes moved past the director and landed on Harry.

"Potter," he muttered. "Potter..."

Despite himself, Harry leaned closer, Hermione at his side.

"You let this happen…" Callahan said in a surprisingly decipherable mumble. "You let Muggles and mudbloods in… you've let them..."

"Do they usually talk this much after?" Hermione whispered, alarmed.

Annie shrugged. "They do sometimes. It depends on the person."

Hermione's question seemed to have caught Callahan's attention, however. He trained his cool, blue eyes on her.

"You...I know you," he murmured. "You're the mudblood bitch. The one that's famous. Married a pureblood but won't take his name? Granger. We'd be better off without your kind...people will see that soon...better off..."

Lakey, Annie, and Harry all stared at Hermione for an interminable second.

She straightened slowly, pushing her bushy curls off her shoulders.

"We'll see about that, Mr. Callahan," she said. "I suggest you prepare yourself for what's coming your way."

With that, she turned sharply and walked out of the cell, her shoes making an even clack, clack on the flagstones.