The Champion's Legacy

Chapter 8: The Hearing


Author's Note: 2019 was supposed to be a year of promise and hope for my writing – or so I had wished. Unfortunately, for both my readers and me, that did not go as expected. However, the year did give me time to reflect, introspect (to whatever extent I could), and work on myself, culminating in time spent at a much-needed spiritual camp in the last week of December. I now hope that, barring this pandemic that's sweeping the world, 2020 will prove to be a more fruitful year for me and my writing.

Thank you, readers, for not giving up hope on this story, even when it felt to me that there was none. Stay home, and stay safe!

Chapter disclaimer: I am not a lawyer or a person well-versed with legal proceedings. This is my imagination of how the trial could have progressed in this story.

Many thanks to Dorothea Greengrass (who is a lawyer) for beta-reading this chapter.


Disclaimer: Recognisable portions in this chapter have been taken from the Harry Potter series, by J.K. Rowling. I neither own nor intend to make any profit from the use of Harry Potter and the associated characters of the series, in my story.


Previously on "The Champion's Legacy"…

'Just remember, whatever happens, we'll all be there for you. Because, one way or another, there is always an after. And we're sure as hell going to be there in it.'

Harry stared at her, a determined expression on her tear-streaked face, her sapphire-blue eyes shining with affection and conviction, and quite emphatically concluded that there was no way she could be more beautiful than that. It got her to laugh – a musical sound that he decided must be heard more often – before he kissed her again.

'Thank you,' he said, after they broke apart. Daphne just smiled at him, silently resting her head against his chest as they hugged each other in the middle of the drawing room.

She was right, he thought – one way or another, there would always be an after.


Despite the reassurances from Daphne and the rest of the occupants of Grimmauld Place, Harry did not sleep well during the night before the hearing. Wild thoughts about his hearing flitted in and out of his dreams as he tossed and turned in bed – his potential expulsion, his wand being snapped in front of a triumphant Fudge and eager Ministry onlookers, Voldemort sending Dementors after him while laughing his high, cold, cruel laugh…and Daphne…Daphne sobbing on her mother's shoulder as he was sent to live with the Dursleys again –

'No!'

Harry sat bolt upright in bed, looking wildly around, his heart beating fast. The dreams had seemed so real, even though he knew they couldn't have been. Willing himself to breathe slowly and calm his racing heart, he felt around for his glasses on his bedside table, put them on, and glanced at his watch.

3:46 am.

He sighed, his head falling back onto his pillow. It was much too early to be awake, even for a day as significant as this. His hearing wasn't for another five hours; he was scheduled to leave with Mr Weasley to the Ministry at half-past six and would meet Mr Greengrass at the Ministry. But he knew he couldn't go back to sleep, not now after those vivid dreams he had had.

A faint sliver of moonlight filtered in through the grimy windows, illuminating a small patch of the floor in the dank, dingy room where he and Ron slept. The walls were empty, save for the single portrait hanging on the wall in front of him. It seemed as though the occupant of that portrait was asleep, too – Harry could hear soft snores coming from someone still lurking out of sight. Beside him, Ron grunted in his sleep.

Harry whiled away a good fifteen minutes by staring at the patch of moonlight that moved ever so often, then decided to get ready for the hearing. Better to do something and keep himself occupied, he thought, rather than lie on his bed and allow morbid thoughts to engulf his imagination once more.

The shower did him some good in waking him up, and in steadying his nerves somewhat. He reminded himself, as he towelled himself dry and got dressed, that his defence was quite solid, and could not be refuted by the Ministry. There was very little chance of pinning any charges on him – he was sure to be let off once he explained himself to Madam Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Almost all the Order members had assured him that Madam Bones, despite her imposing appearance, was a fair woman, and would certainly give Harry a fair hearing.

With these comforting thoughts in his head, Harry slipped out of the room, shut the door quietly so as to not wake Ron up, and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

He had expected it to be empty, but it was not: Sirius and Lupin were seated at the table there, along with Mr and Mrs Weasley, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and, to his surprise, Mrs Greengrass. They all smiled at him as he entered and took his seat. He tried to smile back, but his jaw didn't seem to want to work, and it came out more as a grimace than a grin. Sirius patted his shoulder sympathetically as Mrs Weasley leapt to her feet.

'Breakfast,' she declared, hurrying over to the fire. 'What would you like, Harry dear? Kippers? Toast? Bacon and eggs?'

'Just-just toast, thanks, Mrs Weasley,' said Harry. His insides were squirming; he didn't feel like he could stomach anything else apart from toast.

'Good morning, Harry,' said Mrs Greengrass kindly, looking over at him. 'Are you alright? Did you sleep well?'

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak the absolute truth. Right on cue, Tonks let out a huge yawn, and Harry fought to stifle a yawn of his own just as Mrs Weasley bustled over with a couple of pieces of toast and marmalade. He tried to eat them, but it felt both rubbery and woolly, as though he was chewing a carpet.

Lupin glanced at Harry, then turned towards Kingsley. 'What were you saying about Scrimgeour?'

'He's been asking Tonks and me funny questions,' said Kingsley in his slow, deep voice. 'We need to be a bit more careful.'

'What sort of questions?'

'He's getting suspicious of my reports that Sirius is in Tibet. Seems to think he's in mainland Europe instead…'

Harry tuned the conversation out, even as Sirius let out a low chuckle. He was grateful that he hadn't been asked to join in – he didn't think he could have spoken much. Mrs Greengrass was still looking at him, while Mrs Weasley fussed a little with his shirt. He wished they wouldn't – the attention was making him uncomfortable.

'…I don't think I can do guard duty tonight, I'm so t-t-tired,' finished Tonks, with another huge yawn.

'I can cover for you,' said Lupin gently. 'I'm finished with my assignment anyway.'

Mr Weasley stood up and cleared his own plate from the table. Harry noticed he wasn't wearing his usual wizard robes, but a pair of pinstriped trousers and an old bomber jacket. He caught sight of Harry looking at him and smiled genially as he returned to the table.

'Feeling alright?' he asked kindly.

Harry shrugged.

'It'll be okay,' said Mr Weasley, wiping his hands on a small handkerchief and placing it inside a pocket of his jacket. 'Madam Bones is good; she'll give you a fair hearing.'

'Right,' said Harry automatically.

'You'll be fine,' said Sirius gruffly. 'The law is on your side here – they can't convict you for anything if they follow their own laws.'

Harry nodded.

'I think we'd best be off,' said Mr Weasley. 'You can wait in my office until the hearing. Hermione will join us later – Remus is bringing her.'

Harry nodded again. He dropped the last morsel of his toast onto his plate and got to his feet, surprised that he'd been able to finish most of it. Beside him, the legs of four chairs scraped the floor as their occupants stood up.

'Good luck,' said Lupin.

'It'll be alright, Harry,' said Tonks, smiling, and then immediately yawning once more. 'S-s-sorry…'

Mrs Weasley hugged him. 'We've got our fingers crossed, Harry,' she said. Beside her, Mrs Greengrass nodded solemnly.

Harry smiled weakly, then waved goodbye to the rest of them and followed Mr Weasley up the stairs and along the hallway to the door. Walburga Black grunted in her sleep behind her curtains; Harry was careful to avoid the troll's leg umbrella stand as he and Mr Weasley reached the door.

'Harry?'

The soft voice came from the landing just above him. Harry turned, and saw Daphne standing there, wearing a green dressing gown and a worried expression. Mr Weasley turned too, and upon spotting Daphne, gave Harry a faint smile.

'You can say goodbye,' he said. 'I'll wait here.'

Harry nodded, and slowly climbed the stairs to the landing where she stood, barely visible in the faint moonlight.

'I didn't know you were awake,' he said quietly, stopping right in front of her.

'I just got up,' she admitted, looking up at him; Harry could see the faint worry reflected in her sapphire blue eyes. 'I wanted to see you before you left.'

'Oh,' said Harry; truthfully, he didn't know what else he could have said in response. He figured that saying 'well, here I am,' perhaps wouldn't have been appropriate.

'I'm sure you'll win, Harry,' she whispered. 'I know you will.'

Harry nodded again, and Daphne wrapped her arms around him in an embrace. He melted into it, feeling his apprehensions slowly fading away. He squeezed her affectionately, then pulled back, still looking into her eyes.

'Thank you,' he said, his voice sounding a bit hoarse.

Daphne shook her head. 'No need,' she assured him quietly. She cupped his face in her hands and gave him a soft kiss that warmed him till the tips of his toes.

'Good luck.'


Their journey to the Ministry of Magic was uneventful, even though Mr Weasley kept a firm grip on his wand inside his bomber jacket as they travelled. He did, however, become extremely excited when they entered the Underground station of Islington, pointing enthusiastically to an automatic ticket vending machine that was, admittedly, out of order, and he beamed fondly at the stile that swallowed their tickets at the end of their train ride.

They emerged from the packed station at Piccadilly Circus onto Shaftesbury Avenue, full of imposing-looking building and the regular morning traffic in the heart of London. Mr Weasley seemed to gain his bearings for a moment, then set off at a brisk pace down a small side street. As they walked, the buildings surrounding them became smaller and less imposing, until finally they reached Tisbury Court, in an area which contained several shabby-looking Muggle office buildings, a small pub, and an overflowing dumpster. Harry stopped short at this, eyeing the dumpster and an old telephone box in the distance.

'Erm – Mr Weasley?' he said. 'Are you sure we're in the right area?'

'What?' said Mr Weasley, slightly distracted. 'Oh yes, we are. Right this way, Harry.'

Nonplussed, Harry followed the older man past the dumpster to the very end of Tisbury Court; his bewilderment only increased when Mr Weasley entered the vacant telephone box – which was missing several panes and stood in front of a heavily graffitied wall – and motioned for Harry to join him.

Looking extremely sceptical about this, Harry stepped inside and shut the door, which seemed the only functioning thing in the box. The telephone apparatus was hanging off the wall as though a vandal had tried to rip it off, and Harry could see several wires dangling beneath it.

What on earth…

Mr Weasley picked up the receiver with one hand, and, with the other, reached for the dial and began dialling: six, two, four, four, two.

'Mr Weasley,' he began uncertainly, 'I think this might be –'

But his words were cut short when abruptly, a cool female voice sounded inside the telephone box, not from the receiver still held in Mr Weasley's hand, but as clearly as though an invisible woman was standing right next to them.

'Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.'

'Hmm…' said Mr Weasley, considering the receiver in his hand; he finally compromised by taking the mouthpiece to his ear. 'Arthur Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, here to escort Harry Potter for his disciplinary hearing.'

'Thank you,' said the cool voice. 'Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes.'

There was a click and a rattle, and Harry saw a small badge slide out of the metal chute where coins usually appeared. Mr Weasley picked it up and handed it to him, turning his arm awkwardly as he did so due to the lack of space inside the box. Harry took the square badge, reading the words Harry Potter, Disciplinary Hearing on it before pinning it to the front of his shirt.

'Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to a submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.'

Harry almost jumped as the floor of the box began to shudder, and then stared in astonishment – mixed with no small amount of apprehension – as they sank into the ground. The pavement rose up around them, darkness closing over their heads, until they could see nothing at all, but could only hear a dull grinding noise as the box wended its way down through the earth. A minute or so later – even though it felt much longer to Harry – a chink of golden light illuminated his feet, and widening, rose up to his torso until it hit him in the face, and he had to blink to stop his eyes from watering in the sudden brightness.

'The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day,' said the woman's voice.

The door of the telephone box sprang open, and Mr Weasley stepped out, followed by Harry, whose mouth had fallen open.

Wow.

They were standing at one end of a long and splendid hall, the floor of which was made of highly polished, dark wood. In contrast, the ceiling was a stunning peacock-blue, inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that were continually moving and changing like some enormous heavenly notice board. The walls on each side, panelled in the same dark wood as the floor beneath their feet, had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft whoosh; on the right, short queues of wizards were forming before each fireplace, waiting to depart through the Floo network.

As they walked towards a set of golden gates set at the far end of the hall – joining the throng of hundreds of witches and wizards wearing glum, early morning looks on their faces – they crossed a fountain halfway down the hall. A group of golden statues, larger than life-size, stood in the middle of a circular pool. Tallest of them all was a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air. Grouped around him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf. The last three were all looking adoringly up at the witch and wizard. Glittering jets of water were flying from the ends of the two wands, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat, and each of the house-elf's ears.

Despite his apprehension about the hearing, Harry could not help snorting softly at the expressions on these figurines. For one, the wizard looked as though he had a rather weak chin, while the witch's expression looked akin to what a beauty contestant might sport. For another, he was sure that no centaur or goblin, alive or dead, would be caught staring this soppily at humans of any description. Only the house-elf's expression of adoration, almost like servitude, seemed appropriate. Suppressing another snort at the thought of Hermione's expression when she would see the statues later that morning, he spotted a sign placed near the pool –

All proceeds from the Fountain of Magical Brethren will be given to

St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

He noticed an assortment of bronze Knuts and silver Sickles gleaming up at him from the bottom of the pool. Before he could think of anything else, however, Mr Weasley had steered him away from the general crowd, towards a desk on the left, above which hung a sign saying SECURITY. A quick check of his wand and person later, he and Mr Weasley were re-joining the crowds thronging towards a smaller hall beyond, where at least twenty lifts stood behind wrought golden grilles.

'Where are we meeting Mr Greengrass, Mr Weasley?' asked Harry, as they joined the crowd milling about for one of the lifts. A big, bearded wizard stood in front of them in the line, holding a cardboard box that was emitting ominous rasping noises.

'In my office,' said Mr Weasley. 'We can go from there to the hearing – it's in Madam Bones' office.'

The lift descended in front of them with a loud jangling and clattering noise; they moved inside with the wizard holding the rasping cardboard box and the rest of the crowd. The grilles slid shut with a loud crash and the lift ascended slowly, chains rattling all the while, while the same cool female voice from the telephone box rang out again, announcing the floors and the respective departments of the Ministry.

'Level five, Department of International Magical Cooperation, incorporating the International Magical Trading Standards Body, the International Magical Office of Law, and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats.'

As a few witches and wizards got out, pursued by a few violet-coloured inter-departmental memos of the Ministry, more memos zoomed inside, along with several witches in plum-coloured robes, with a decorative and artistic 'W' inscribed upon their chests – and, to their surprise, Mr Jonathan Greengrass.

'Jonathan?' said Mr Weasley in surprise, staring at him over the heads of the plum-coloured witches. 'I thought we were to meet –'

'Next floor, Arthur,' said Mr Greengrass curtly. Harry saw him look meaningfully at the witches, then back at Mr Weasley, who nodded but said nothing more.

'Level four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being, and Spirit Divisions, Goblin Liaison Office, and Pest Advisory Bureau.'

The wizard with the cardboard box exited, a flock of memos zooming past him. Mr Weasley grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him out, following Mr Greengrass along the main corridor to an area past the small straggle of people waiting for the next lift.

'What is it?' asked Mr Weasley in an urgent whisper. 'What's happened?'

'They've changed the time and venue,' said Mr Greengrass without preamble. His sapphire-blue eyes, just like his daughter's, glanced around to confirm that they were quite alone. Harry did a quick check too. 'It's at eight o'clock now.'

'What?' said Mr Weasley with a small yelp, glancing quickly at his watch. 'But that's in ten minutes!'

'Ten minutes?' repeated Harry, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Mr Greengrass glanced down at him, but apart from a brief nod, he said nothing.

'It's down at Courtroom Ten –' said Mr Greengrass.

'Courtroom Ten?!' said Mr Weasley, quite loudly this time. A few witches and wizards from the crowd near the lifts looked around curiously.

'I'm as shocked as you are,' said Mr Greengrass, whose expression betrayed nothing of what he'd just said. 'If my hunch is correct, this will not just be a simple discussion with Madam Bones – we may have to deal with a full trial. In which case,' he turned to Harry, 'leave most of the talking to me. If you feel the need to speak, do so, but don't say anything against what we have already planned, is that clear?'

Harry nodded.

'Good,' said Mr Greengrass. 'I suspect Fudge is behind this entire charade. He will no doubt want to turn this to his advantage, but I think I know how to counter him. I will outline some ideas for strategy that I have while on the way there. Hopefully the situation will play right into our hands.'

Harry nodded again, and opened his mouth to speak, but Mr Greengrass beat him to it.

'I have asked Remus and Hermione to leave at once. They should be joining us in time for when I'll bring in the witnesses.' He addressed Mr Weasley next. 'Arthur, your testimony should not change, except for the manner of recounting it. Follow my lead, if you are unsure.'

Mr Weasley nodded, still looking quite astounded at the turn of events.

'Let's go.'


Harry's gasp of recognition still had not left him when he took his seat in the middle of Courtroom Ten. He swallowed heavily, his heart still pounding loudly in his throat, and looked up.

If he was being honest with himself, it felt surreal to be sitting in that chair – the very chair in which countless criminals and convicts had sat, awaiting their fate to be decided by the multitude of faces that gazed down upon them – when only a few months before, he had been a witness to a few trials, thanks to the magic of Dumbledore's Pensieve.

Mingled with this surrealness, however, was a sense of panic that this trial would not end in his favour. He had an iron-clad reason, of course, and his defence was quite solid, but what if they decided to ignore all of that and hold him guilty for casting the Patronus Charm? What if they expelled him, snapped his wand in half, and forced him to return to the Dursleys?

He gave a visible shudder and glanced down, just as the chains covering the chair clinked rather threateningly. However, they did not slink up to bind them like they had done for the Lestranges and Karkaroff so many years ago. Feeling a bit of his panic ebbing away, he looked up again at the people seated on the benches above.

There were about fifty of them, all, as far as he could see, wearing plum coloured robes with an elaborately worked silver 'W' on the left-hand side of the chest – similar to the robes worn by those witches in the lift earlier – and all, despite not being able to make out clearly, certainly staring down their noses at him. Some had expressions of curiosity on their faces, others sported looks of boredom, and still others wore looks of disgust and annoyance.

That look was quite evident on the face of Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic and, remembering what the Order had told them, the newly appointed Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot following Dumbledore's dismissal. Fudge was a portly man who often sported a lime-green bowler hat, although today he had dispensed with it; he had also done away with the indulgent smile that Harry had so often seen bestowed upon him when they had spoken to each other. The annoyance on his face was plainly visible for everyone to see: clearly, just as Mr Greengrass had predicted, Fudge had expected to catch Harry off-guard with his stunt of changing the date and place of the trial and was furious that it had not worked.

Nice try, Fudge.

Focus now, Harry…

On Fudge's either side were two witches: a broad, square-jawed witch with very short grey hair and a forbidding-looking monocle was on his right; the other witch was sat so far back that she was shrouded in darkness and was indistinguishable.

'Very well,' said Fudge, a slightly bristly tone in his voice. 'With the accused being present, and the members also here…very well, let us begin.

'Disciplinary hearing on the twelfth of August, nineteen ninety-five,' began Fudge in a ringing voice, and Harry saw Percy Weasley start taking down notes at top speed, 'into the offence committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, and a potential breach of the International Statute of Secrecy, by Harry James Potter, resident of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

'Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley.'

Fudge finished reading out these names and glared down at Harry from above his notes. It was remarkable how much he resembled Uncle Vernon in the shade of puce they sported when they were annoyed.

'Harry James Potter, you have been charged with breaching Paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, based on the evidence that you produced a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area on July the twenty-ninth this year at eighteen minutes past eight in the evening,' barked Fudge. 'How do you plead?'

'My dear Chief Warlock, surely you didn't think of starting the trial without the defence's lawyer accounted for?'

Jonathan Greengrass was striding across the room to draw level with Harry's chair, wearing a perfectly calm, almost peaceful expression on his astutely sharp face. Harry could tell, however, that he was delighted with the way things had played out. Fudge had fallen right into the little trap they had set for him just before they had entered the courtroom.

Hook, line, and sinker!

Oh Fudge, you poor old man.

Fudge's head whipped up from his notes, looking annoyed, alarmed and slightly flustered. He stared from Harry to Mr Greengrass in obvious confusion, then looked down at his notes again.

'D-defence's lawyer?' spluttered Fudge. 'What – I mean – how –'

'The papers for my appointment as Harry Potter's counsel were filed with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement almost a week ago,' said Mr Greengrass. 'I trust that you still have them, Chief Warlock, even though the jurisdiction for this case was taken over by the Wizengamot?'

Fudge looked extremely disconcerted; Mr Greengrass, on the other hand, was smiling serenely. Yet, the sapphire-blue eyes were blazing with contempt; Harry half expected them to burn through the desk behind which Fudge was seated.

'That is correct,' boomed Madam Bones. She reached over to Fudge's desk and pulled out a piece of parchment from between his fumbling fingers. 'I thought it would be of particular interest to you, Minister, so I had my assistant place it on the top of the file when you asked me to give it to you.'

Fudge, whose whole visage had slackened by the second, seemed to perk up and bristle with annoyance at the inflection in Madam Bones' tone. He scowled as he scanned the parchment, finally brushing it aside irritably.

'Very well, very well,' snapped Fudge. 'Counsel for the accused: Jonathan Greengrass. Make sure you've got that, Weasley.'

'Yes sir, I've got it sir,' said Percy eagerly.

'Right,' said Fudge. 'Well, now to the –'

'I hope the record would also state,' said Mr Greengrass, cutting over Fudge smoothly, 'that the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot attempted to start the trial without ensuring that the accused, an underage wizard who is still at school, had adequate representation for the trial.'

Absolute silence greeted that extraordinary pronouncement. Even Percy's quill had ceased its scratching.

If it hadn't been for the seriousness of the situation, Harry was sure he would have been laughing his head off at the sight before him. As it was, he was having difficulty in staving off the grin that threatened to creep up onto his face. While they had expected this behaviour from Fudge – had expected him to blatantly ignore the counsel appointment paper right on top of the file – Harry had not thought it possible that Fudge would actually have ignored good advice to not disregard the paper and announce Mr Greengrass's presence in the courtroom before proceeding with the trial.

Then again, he's been ignoring good advice all summer so far.

True story. Now focus.

But focus was one thing that Harry was struggling with at the moment. He wished he had a camera, like Colin Creevey's – Fudge's jaw-dropped expression of shock was priceless. The witch on his left shifted restlessly in her seat.

Harry turned his head slightly to see Mr Greengrass still sporting the same peaceful expression, but his eyes were now dancing in glee. There was no contest now – Harry and Mr Greengrass had drawn first blood in this trial.

Fudge finally broke the silence. 'I – err – I'm not sure that that would be – ah – necessary, John –'

'As we are in a trial, I would prefer you address me as Mr Greengrass, Chief Warlock,' said Mr Greengrass politely. 'Formalities and decorum must necessarily be observed in this august court, should they not, Madam Bones?'

'Agreed,' boomed Madam Bones. The edges of her monocle disappeared into her flesh as she frowned slightly at Mr Greengrass.

'And therefore,' continued Mr Greengrass, 'you would also agree that the record must reflect the rather unusual behaviour of the Chief Warlock in not granting the –'

'Oh, very well!' snapped Fudge yet again; Harry could tell he was angry and flustered, and didn't want Mr Greengrass to repeat that statement yet again. 'Weasley, make a note!'

'Y-yes, sir,' said Percy, a little tremulously.

'Thank you, Chief Warlock, Court Scribe,' said Mr Greengrass with a little bow. 'Shall we proceed with the charges against my client?'

The Wizengamot was muttering and fidgeting now. Harry could see a few people whispering quickly to their neighbours; only when Fudge spoke again did they settle down.

'Yes,' said Fudge, shuffling his notes. 'Yes, alright. The charges, yes.'

He extracted another piece of parchment from the pile before him, cleared his throat – a little sanctimoniously, in Harry's opinion – and began to read. 'The charges against the accused are as follows: That he did, knowingly and deliberately, and with full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic three years ago on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area on the twenty-ninth of July at eighteen minutes past eight in the evening, which constitutes an offence under paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and a potential offence under section thirteen of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy, 1692.'

Fudge looked down at Harry over his notes. 'How do you plead?'

'My client pleads not guilty, Chief Warlock,' said Mr Greengrass clearly.

The Wizengamot shifted restlessly once again. Fudge glared at Mr Greengrass for a moment, then turned back to Harry.

'You are Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, are you not?' he asked.

'Yes,' said Harry.

'You received an official warning from the Ministry for performing magic illegally outside of school three years ago, did you not?'

'I did.'

'And you performed the Patronus Charm on the night of the twenty-ninth of July?'

'That's right.'

'With full knowledge of your previous transgression of the law?'

'If you say so.'

'Knowing that you are not permitted to use magic outside of school while you are still underage?'

'It didn't cross my mind, but yes.'

Harry…

'Knowing that you were in a Muggle-inhabited area?'

'Well, yeah, I was at the Dursleys'.'

Harry could tell he was winding Fudge up with his answers. He knew Fudge had expected a desperate, frightened fifteen-year old with a point to prove, but had not bargained for this confident, young teenager sitting in front of the entire Wizengamot and rattling off answers as though he had practised them in advance. He could clearly see Fudge's visage grow redder by the second, and there was a vein in his temple that was pulsing eerily similarly to Uncle Vernon's whenever he got angry.

'Knowing that –'

Madam Bones cut across him with her booming voice.

'You produced a corporeal Patronus?'

'A – what?'

'I mean to say, it has a defined form?'

'Oh,' said Harry. 'Yes, it's a stag. Always a stag.'

'Always? You've produced a Patronus before?'

'I learnt it two years ago from my Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Remus Lupin.'

The witch to Fudge's left shifted slightly in the shadows.

'Impressive,' said Madam Bones, nodding, 'very impressive indeed.'

A few members of the Wizengamot were muttering and nodding along with Madam Bones, but others were shaking their heads.

'I would hardly consider the quality of magic as being the question here,' said Fudge in a testy voice. 'In fact, the more impressive it was, the more severe the breach, given how it would have been seen by Muggles!'

'We don't know that for sure, Chief Warlock,' said Mr Greengrass. 'No evidence has been brought on record by the Wizengamot to prove that my client did indeed breach the International Statute of Secrecy.'

'No evidence?' repeated Fudge. 'What do you mean, no evidence? It happened on the main road, didn't it? Of course Muggles would have seen it!'

'But there is no evidence of that happening,' retorted Mr Greengrass. 'As I understand, none of the Ministry indicators for Muggles witnessing magic were triggered that night. Nor were any Obliviators dispatched to the area. Is that correct, Madam Bones?'

'True,' said Madam Bones, whose frown had become more pronounced as the exchange continued. 'I had Mafalda confirm this earlier – we have no evidence that any Muggle witnessed this display of magic.'

'Well then, if that is the case –' began Mr Greengrass, but Fudge interrupted him, with a change of tack at top speed.

'Be that as it may, the charge for underage magic being performed by Harry Potter outside of school still stands!' he said loudly. 'Unless you're saying that the Ministry got that one wrong too, eh?'

'Not at all,' said Mr Greengrass politely. 'But there was a very good reason for my client to have performed that charm that night at his relatives' place.'

'Oho!' said Fudge. 'Yes, yes, go on. A "very good reason", indeed, I don't doubt! What story has the boy cooked up now?'

Some of the members whispered and smirked to one another. But it was Percy's derisive laugh that goaded Harry into speech, overriding Mr Greengrass' earlier instructions.

'I did it because of the Dementors,' he said clearly.

He had expected the courtroom to be buzzing after his statement, but the silence that fell upon them all seemed denser than ever.

'Dementors?' said Madam Bones in surprise. 'What do you mean, Dementors?'

'I mean there were two Dementors at the end of Privet Drive, and I had to use the Patronus Charm against them.'

'I don't understand –'

'Don't you, Amelia?' said Fudge, with a most unpleasant smirk on his plump face. 'Let me explain.' He glanced around the Wizengamot, still smirking, as though inviting them to share in the joke he'd just figured out. 'He's been thinking it through and decided that Dementors would be a great story. And it's very convenient too, isn't it, boy? No witnesses, no testimony, just your word against ours…'

'Are you insinuating that my client is lying, Chief Warlock?' said Mr Greengrass. 'You do not believe his story?'

'Of course I don't,' said Fudge coldly. 'I have no reason to believe his story is true at all, so you'll excuse me if I have to interrupt this well-rehearsed –'

'We do have two other witnesses who can testify to the presence of Dementors in Little Whinging that night, Chief Warlock,' said Mr Greengrass calmly, but with a hint of coldness in his tone. 'Other than my client himself.'

Fudge's plump face, which until now had been adorned with a wide smirk, slackened at once, as though someone had let all the air out of it. He gaped at Mr Greengrass, then, with the appearance of a man pulling himself together, said quickly, 'I'm afraid we haven't the time to listen to other witnesses, Mr Greengrass. I want this closed quickly –'

'Indeed?' said Mr Greengrass, with a hint of suggestive inflection in his tone. He did not shout it out loud, but it seemed to carry over Fudge's voice and the mutterings of the Wizengamot members.

'You seem to be eager to complete a lot of things in remarkable haste, Chief Warlock,' said Mr Greengrass pleasantly. 'Admirable sentiments, I must admit. But, forgive me, I am quite sure that in accordance with the Wizengamot Charter of Rights, my client has the right to call any witness for his case. Isn't that correct, Madam Bones?' he finished.

'Very true,' boomed Madam Bones. 'I see no reason to rush this case, Minister, without hearing the testimony of those witnesses.'

Fudge shot Madam Bones a furious look, but said, 'Very well! Where are these witnesses of yours?'

'They are outside the door,' said Mr Greengrass. 'I shall fetch them –'

And he strode over to the door and out of Harry's sight. A moment later, he returned with Mr Weasley and Hermione, for whom he conjured chairs to sit.

'Arthur Weasley?' said Madam Bones in astonishment.

'Good morning, Madam Bones,' said Mr Weasley politely. 'Minister, Madam Umbridge.'

Mr Weasley's jaw tightened as he addressed Madam Umbridge, as though he was doing so out of mere formality rather than genuine politeness. Harry also noticed that, apart from a slight tightening of the lines around his mouth, Mr Weasley gave no indication or acknowledgement of having seen his third son as the Court Scribe.

Quite suddenly, at that moment, Harry felt a small twinge in his abdomen that betrayed the onset of nerves. He was sure of Mr Weasley and Hermione backing him up as witnesses, but Tonks' presence could not be explained, and was not something that either he, Harry, or Mr Greengrass wanted to explain to the Wizengamot. They had already agreed on subtly keeping Tonks out of the picture – more so given the Ministry's refusal to acknowledge the skirmish that took place that night – but if the Auror Office decided to bring it up during the trial…

'Our witnesses,' said Mr Greengrass, introducing them in turn. 'Mr Arthur Weasley of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, Ministry of Magic, resident of Ottery St. Catchpole, and Miss Hermione Granger of Hogwarts School, resident of Chelmsford.'

'And what were you two doing in Little Whinging?' demanded Fudge.

'I was visiting Harry that evening,' said Hermione at once. Harry thought she had such an ingrained desire to answer questions immediately that she couldn't help responding, even in a trial. 'He needed help with some summer homework, so we thought it best for me to go over and help him with it.'

'Is that so?' said Fudge, fixing her with a sceptical look. 'Summer homework, you say? And what subject was that?'

'Transfiguration,' said Hermione promptly. 'He was having trouble with it, so I went over to help him understand.'

'I see,' said Fudge, who sounded like he didn't believe a word of what Hermione had said. 'And what about you, Weasley?'

'I would request you to address my witnesses with decorum and formality, Chief Warlock, if you please,' interjected Mr Greengrass coolly.

Fudge gave Mr Greengrass a look of pure annoyance, and the vein in his temple was throbbing worse than ever. Mr Greengrass seemed not to notice, or if he did, he did not appear to care in the slightest.

'All right!' said Fudge loudly, causing a few members to jump in surprise. 'What were you doing in Little Whinging, Mr Weasley?'

'I had arrived at number four, Privet Drive to escort Harry to my place for the rest of the summer,' said Mr Weasley. 'Harry usually stays with us for some time over the summer until he returns to school, and this summer was no different.'

Madam Bones looked down at the pair of them in silence, while Fudge fidgeted with his papers. After a moment, Madam Bones asked, 'Did you know that Miss Granger was at number four, Privet Drive as well, Mr Weasley?'

Harry's nervousness increased slightly. They were getting to the tricky questions now; any slip could prove to be disastrous.

'No, I did not,' said Mr Weasley calmly. 'It was a bit of a surprise to see Hermione there, but not entirely unexpected.'

'I see,' said Madam Bones. 'What happened when you decided to leave?'

This is the trickiest part.

It'll be fine. Stay calm and focused.

'I was going to take Harry to my place by side-along Apparation, while Hermione was to go back to her house in Chelmsford,' said Mr Weasley. 'We had brought his trunk out to the end of the driveway leading to his house, right on Privet Drive, when the lamp at the end of the street went out.'

There was complete silence in the courtroom now. Even Fudge seemed to be listening rather attentively, although he wasn't looking at Mr Weasley at all.

'I saw it first,' said Hermione, 'and I pointed it out to Mr Weasley. By that time, the next lamp had gone out, too. A-and then,' Hermione's voice faltered slightly. 'It felt like I was doused in icy water…' she shuddered, as though she could still feel the chill from that night.

'Our breaths were coming out in smoky puffs,' said Mr Weasley. 'It was like winter, except that it was an extremely warm night, mind you, and there was no snow. I couldn't understand what was going on at first.'

'Everything went dark after that. Dark and silent – I couldn't hear anything…not even the cars from the next street. And then, the cold hit us…'

'I still hadn't understood what had happened. I thought I was hallucinating; the cold was so intense. The only things I could hear were Harry and Hermione breathing heavily.'

'I heard them, next,' and now, Hermione's voice was quite soft, almost a whisper, but it carried to everyone in the courtroom. 'They were drawing in their horrible, horrible breaths – they made that dreadful rattling sound, as though they were sucking up something…and I felt all the happiness leave me…'

'It was terrible,' said Mr Weasley quietly. 'I felt as though I'd never be happy again, ever.' His voice shook slightly on the last word.

Madam Bones' eyes were wide with astonishment. Harry could see the red marks under her eyebrow where the monocle had dug into it.

'What did the Dementors do after that?' she asked, in a strangely hushed voice.

'They came towards us,' said Mr Weasley, as though pulling himself together. 'My wand was in my hand, but I couldn't conjure my Patronus – the memories were too much.'

'Then I heard Harry yell the spell, and I saw his stag come out from his wand,' said Hermione, who sounded a bit more confident now. 'I saw it charge down one Dementor and throw it backwards, then it went for the next one – it got that from behind…' She trailed off.

Madam Bones stared at her expectantly. 'Well? What happened after that?'

'Well, things went back to normal after that,' said Mr Weasley, in a matter-of-fact tone. 'The Dementors disappeared, and immediately, everything came back – the stars, the noise, the lamps, everything.'

Madam Bones stared at the pair of them, as though in quiet contemplation. Fudge, who had not made eye contact with either Mr Weasley or Hermione throughout their re-telling of the events, looked up and said aggressively, 'Is that it, then?'

'That is what happened,' said Mr Weasley calmly.

'Very well,' said Fudge. 'You may leave.'

Mr Weasley and Hermione got to their feet and left; Hermione smiled tremulously at Harry as she passed him. Harry heard the door close behind them.

'That certainly changes things,' said Madam Bones.

'You believe that story, then?' said Fudge coolly.

'I'll be hard pressed not to, Minister,' replied Madam Bones. 'Two wizarding eye-witness accounts that described a Dementor attack accurately – that's compelling enough for me. And they had no reason to lie. I can't imagine why they would say the Dementors were there if they weren't –'

'But Dementors just happening to come across three magical people in a Muggle suburb?' snorted Fudge. 'Highly unlikely for me. Too much of a coincidence, and extremely convenient, if you ask me.'

'I disagree, Chief Warlock,' said Mr Greengrass. 'I don't think those Dementors were there by coincidence. Nor, if I may say so, do any of us believe so.'

The witch next to Fudge shifted again.

'In fact, I agree with you that those Dementors couldn't have wandered there on their own, or by accident.'

'I'm afraid I don't understand you, Mr Greengrass,' said Fudge icily.

'Well, it's very simple, Chief Warlock,' said Mr Greengrass, with the patient air of explaining something very simple to an excited toddler. 'It is my belief that they were ordered there to attack my client.'

'Ordered there to attack the boy?' repeated Fudge in an incredulous tone. 'Preposterous! Impossible! I highly doubt anyone would have ordered two Dementors to go strolling through Little Whinging!'

'Indeed?' said Mr Greengrass. 'Can that be verified, Chief Warlock?'

'I –' Fudge faltered, looking slightly alarmed at Mr Greengrass.

Harry's heart was thumping quickly in his chest. This was the next crucial moment in their strategy: they had initially planned to do this during the discussion with Madam Bones, but the trial afforded the opportunity to make it well-known almost immediately. If they could play it right…

'As I understand,' continued Mr Greengrass, taking a few steps forward towards Fudge and the bench he sat on, 'the Ministry keeps a record of all communication and instructions given to the Dementors of Azkaban. Unless protocol and procedure has been altered for this as well, this should give a clear picture of who ordered those Dementors to Little Whinging that night.

'Unless,' he added delicately, 'there are some Dementors who are not taking orders from the Ministry of Magic. I doubt that, of course, but it could be a possibility.'

Mr Greengrass allowed his suggestion to hang for a moment, then stepped back to stand next to Harry.

The sound of his shoes on the stone floor seemed to trigger a reply from Fudge. 'There are no Dementors that are outside Ministry control, Mr Greengrass. And I might remind you,' he added nastily, 'that it is not your job to tell the Ministry what to do!'

'I agree, it isn't,' said Mr Greengrass pleasantly. 'But I hope this matter will not go un-investigated by the Ministry, given that it has ramifications for my client and the Ministry.'

'Is that a threat, Mr Greengrass?' said Fudge forcefully. 'Are you threatening –'

'Certainly not, Chief Warlock,' said Mr Greengrass smoothly. 'I do not wish to antagonise or threaten the Ministry of Magic or our esteemed leaders.' Harry noted the heavy emphasis on the word 'esteemed'. 'However, I do want to elaborate on my earlier statement.'

He paused yet again. Harry thought Mr Greengrass was rather enjoying himself with these little breaks; he seemed to revel in the dramatic effect they created.

'As we have just seen, my client and I have produced two eye-witnesses who have credibly established the presence of Dementors on Privet Drive on the night of July the twenty-ninth. Their presence there verifies the need for my client to perform the Patronus Charm in self-defence, and in the defence of the lives of two other magical people who were with him. This, I submit, falls under Clause Six, sub-clause B of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, which permits magic to be used by an underage witch or wizard outside school in exceptional circumstances, and such circumstances include a threat to the life of the witch or wizard in question, or any other person present at the time of the threat.

'Therefore, it is our submission that my client has not broken any laws. We had already established that the second charge ought to be dropped; I now submit that the first charge be dropped as well, and my client be cleared of all charges.'

Mr Greengrass paused for a moment, allowing the members to process his submission.

'Secondly, I had merely expressed my confidence that the presence of Dementors will be investigated by the Ministry. While there is currently no legal avenue for my client or me to request this investigation to take place, as per the bye-laws that govern the Ministry, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has the power to do so, suo motu.'

Mr Greengrass paused again. No one was moving this time. Even Fudge was staring at Mr Greengrass, as though transfixed.

'It is my sincere wish that this be undertaken, for if it does result in the finding that someone in the Ministry ordered this attack, my client will take the legal recourse of charging the Ministry of Magic with attempted murder of a minor wizard.'

Harry had expected the courtroom to erupt in shock and outrage, but the silence that remained after that extraordinary pronouncement was thicker and denser than ever. Harry couldn't even hear anyone breathing – it was as though everyone had collectively gasped and held their breath in astonishment.

'My client and I rest our case, Chief Warlock,' said Mr Greengrass. 'We have nothing further to add. We have presented our defence, and now await your verdict.'

He turned smartly and sat on one of the chairs he had conjured for their witnesses, looking up directly at Fudge and Madam Bones. The witch on Fudge's right was still in shadow. Harry tried catching his eye, seeking some reassurance, some sign, that they had done the right thing, and it would work out well. But Mr Greengrass seemed oblivious to Harry's attempts; instead he continued to look up at the benches where the entire Wizengamot had broken out into whispered discussions.

Harry alternated his gaze between Mr Greengrass and the benches above, wondering if he ought to say something. His only words during the hearing had been to tell the members that there had been Dementors – in a way, those words had brought about the entire discussion and this result. He wasn't sure if he ought to once again defy Mr Greengrass' instructions about not speaking unless absolutely necessary. Was there anything further to add? Harry did not know. Hermione and Mr Weasley had explained everything to the Wizengamot in excellent detail – what more could he tell them? Bringing up the Death Eaters and Tonks' presence would open a whole other can of worms, and they had agreed not to say anything about it. Getting him cleared from a conviction was their priority, instead of trying to drill some sense into Fudge about Voldemort's return.

The declaration of the potential counter-charge against the Ministry had been a masterstroke, however. Harry marvelled at how Mr Greengrass had modified their initial plan, and how it had played so easily into their hands during the hearing. Granted, they had conceded it was quite unlikely that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would conduct such an investigation, but it had certainly been worth mentioning to the Wizengamot. If it could at least persuade a few people to reconsider whether Fudge was telling the truth, they could prove to be valuable allies for the Order.

To that extent, cornering Fudge into the situation of admitting, in effect, that the attack had been ordered by the Ministry was a worthy feat. Mr Greengrass certainly knew how to push the right buttons to get what he wanted – and in a trial such as this, there were no holds barred. Harry had never doubted Mr Greengrass' capability or skill, but after that display, his respect for the man just increased ten-fold.

The whispering stopped. Harry refocused on the interrogators – mainly Madam Bones and Fudge.

'Those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?' said Madam Bones in her booming voice.

There were hands in the air, many of them…almost everyone had raised their hands! His tension seemed to ebb away, very slowly, even as Madam Bones said, 'And those in favour of conviction?'

A few members raised their hands, including Fudge and the witch to his right, still in the shadows.

Fudge glanced around at the members; it looked like he was struggling to speak, but something large was lodged in his throat. Finally, he lowered his hand and almost spat out, 'Very well, very well…cleared of all charges.'

'Excellent!' said Mr Greengrass, clapping his hands together. 'Thank you, esteemed members of the Wizengamot. Chief Warlock, Madam Bones, Madam Umbridge, I take my leave.' He gave a little bow in their direction, then said, 'Let's go, Harry.'

Harry sprang to his feet, eager to leave. The reality of the clean verdict was catching up to him, and he was excited to get back to Grimmauld Place and celebrate with the others. Without a backward glance at Fudge, he followed Mr Greengrass out of the courtroom.


To be continued…