Dobby gave them the head's up. Bravely he told the DA about Umbridge's plans for an ambush. This follows from their flight.

Red-faced and gasping for air, Ron, Neville and Ginny skidded around the corner, rushing down one of the shortcuts that led to the Gryffindor Common Room.

"D'you… think we can stop… running now?" Ron huffed as they burst off at another sprint. Neither Ginny nor Neville answered so he grunted and continued after them. Soon enough, they reached the Fat Lady and clattered into the Common Room.

Many other breathless Gryffindors greeted them. Dean Thomas was doubled over one of the chairs, holding a stitch. Colin Creevey looked on the verge of passing out.

Ron searched for Harry and Hermione, not seeing them among the crowd. They had been behind him and Neville when they left. Harry had been talking to Dobby the last Ron saw of his raven-haired friend. As for Hermione, she had hung back for Harry, shouting at him to get a move on.

Thinking of Hermione, the Portrait Hole opened up, expelling a very exhausted Hermione Granger, her hair more wild than usual, windswept and static. She made a beeline for Ron at once.

"I split from Harry," she gasped out, "I lost sight of him when he dragged Dobby out with him."

Neville overheard and shared worried looks with Ginny.

"Harry knows all the shortcuts and all the hiding spots," Ron assured Hermione, "he's likely giving them the slip."

Little did he know, Harry did give them the slip in a literal sense. While fleeing the Room of Requirement, Draco Malfoy's tripping hex had him sliding down the corridor on his stomach before being seized by Umbridge.

"Do… do you think that's it for the DA?" Ginny asked Hermione, her face pink from exertion. Hermione caught Ron's eye.

"The room's a bust," Ron said, "but we could find somewhere else?"

"Like where? It was the perfect location," Hermione scowled, her face colouring with frustration. "Someone must have told Umbridge. No one else could have possibly known that we were there."

"Do you think someone would really do that?" Neville asked her, his eyes wide.

A hard look entered Hermione's eyes. "If someone has, we'll know who soon enough."

Minutes passed and Harry still didn't show. Ron was pacing back and forth. Neville watched with wide eyes. Hermione was wringing her hands.

"I should have waited for him." She said quietly. "Ron, if he was caught…"

Ron stopped pacing and then turned to head up the boy's staircase. He gave Hermione a pointed look and she went to follow him up. As she reached him, he turned.

"Harry might have left his map and cloak in his trunk. We can try to find him if he's pinned down."

Hermione's face lit up and she nodded, following him up to the dormitory. Entering first, Ron headed straight for Harry's bed. He grimaced as he opened his trunk, clearly not thrilled at invading his friend's privacy. Thankfully, Harry had the sense to keep his cloak and map on the top so he could reach it easily. Hermione was chewing her lip, looking nervously at the parchment in Ron's hands. He sat down on Harry's bed, taking out his wand.

" I solemnly swear I'm up to no good. "

Hermione joined him as the lines of ink appeared, forming the map of Hogwarts. The pair of them scanned the fifth floor in silence, not seeing Harry's name. Both looked more and more nervous as they tried to find him. He wasn't in Umbridge's office, at least.

"Oh no…" Hermione gasped out, horrified. "He's… he's in the Headmaster's office and… the Minister is there."

Both of them stared, horrified. Sure enough, the names 'Harry Potter' and 'Cornelius Fudge' were in the large office. They weren't alone.

"If Kingsley's there with Dawlish, then…" Ron was pale.

"He's there to make an arrest."

"Harry…" Ron then swore loudly. "Percy's there! That slimy git!"

"Ron… Ron, we have to do something. They're going to arrest him and it's our fault!" Hermione grabbed at his robe, pulling him around. "The DA… we forced him into it. And now he… he's going to get expelled!"

Ron's face was stormy as he stared down at the map. "At least we know who sold us out. Look, 'Mariette Edgecombe'." He pointed the name out.

"Cho's friend," Hermione said quietly, "that little Sneak. "

They watched as the names moved around. Fudge was pacing. McGonagall was also there, standing close to Harry. Hermione tried to visualise the scene. She pictured their Head of House hovering protectively near their friend. Percy then left the office. Ron glared at his older brother's name. Dumbledore had then moved towards Fudge. Hermione's eyes were fixed on Harry's name.

"What do we do?" Ron asked after a moment.

"What can we do?" Hermione looked up at him. "We don't know the password to the office and even if we did… Harry's in a lot of trouble." She bit her lip. "Dumbledore is there… he'll have something…" Her eyes went wide as the names all moved rather erratically. Dumbledore then moved to Harry. Hermione then shrieked as suddenly Dumbledore vanished from the map all together.

They stared at each other. "What…?" Ron just said.

"He's gone…" Hermione stared at the map. "He just… left. Why? Why would he leave?"

Meanwhile, Kingsley and Dawlish left the office, clearly in pursuit. A few minutes passed and McGonagall then left with Marietta, leaving Harry alone with Fudge and Umbridge.

"Harry, I hope you aren't doing what I think you're doing…" Hermione said, then she looked up at the office, "don't give them a reason to arrest you."

"He wouldn't be stupid enough to attack the Minister for Magic," Ron told her but he didn't look too certain.

"He might have to. It's far too dangerous for Harry to be in Ministry custody. Voldemort managed to have your dad attacked there, Ron. Imagine what he could do to Harry!"

Ron looked ill at that, but then he looked at where the office was. "Hermione, we could listen in! We have extendable ears. We could levitate one to the office window!"

Hermione bit her lip, looking at the rooms closest to the office. There was a disused classroom nearby. "I suppose we can try." She then took the cloak. "Let's get under this now so the others don't follow us."

Ron nodded, joining Hermione at her side. They descended the staircase, taking care to avoid Ginny and Neville, who were anxiously chatting and stealing glances up to the dormitory staircases. Both Ron and Hermione felt back for not involving them, but the less people involved now, the better. Harry would be furious with them if they involved more people in their mess.

Once out of the Common Room, they used the map to spy certain slytherins who were roaming the corridors. They shared looks when they saw them patrolling. It was clear now how Harry managed to get caught. Likely, he was ambushed.

They cautiously entered the classroom, taking care to not disturb anything. Reaching the window, Hermione carefully prised it open, wincing at the sound it made. Ron eyed the map, he handed Hermione the ear. She levitated the end out the window, squinting out into the dark as she manoeuvred it. Ron listened into the other end.

"You do not have to make this so hard, Mr Potter," Umbridge's saccharinely sweet, girlish voice rolled out of the ear, causing Hermione and Ron to tense. "Just testify against Dumbledore and you can go back to the Common Room."

"I thought I must not tell lies, Professor."

"You don't fully grasp your situation, Potter. We have proof that you actively were working against the Ministry, plotting against me. But if you were coerced into following Dumbledore's orders, the Wizengamot will be a lot more lenient. You may not even be expelled." Ron checked the map. Harry was alone with Umbridge and Fudge.

"You have proof that I broke an educational decree… that's it. The worst you can do to me is expel me."

"We have proof that you are not only part of, but also lead a student militia formed under Dumbledore's order. We also have proof that you formed this group in direct opposition of the Ministry's mandate to teach students spells that are not Ministry-approved. Not only that, but we also have proof of your libellous attempt to discredit the Ministry with your interview that was printed in the publication, the Quibbler. " Umbridge's voice was nasty now.

Harry laughed. "You want to sue me? Are you kidding me?"

"Oh no, Mr Potter, we want to arrest you for conspiracy as Albus Dumbledore's accomplice."

There was silence following that. Hermione and Ron shared a look.

"Dumbledore confessed to conspiracy before evading arrest, Potter, " Fudge broke the silence." The witness accounts from Willy Widdershins and Marietta Edgecombe place you as his accomplice, whether willing or not, you are a suspect by association."

"I admit I ran the DA, and yes, I… I broke that bloody Educational Decree, but that's not a crime." Hermione hated hearing the fear in Harry's voice. He knew that he was outplayed and without allies.

"Conspiring by organising a coup on the Ministry is," Fudge snapped back.

"A coup?" Harry repeated.

"Do you deny that you named your group 'Dumbledore's Army? "

"It was a joke!" Harry burst out. "Obviously it's not very funny now because you actually believe that Dumbledore wants to march children soldiers into the Ministry and overthrow you. How could you possibly believe that?"

"Not only were you training these recruits, but you manipulated them with the fake threat of you-know-who's return so they would fall in line-."

"Wh-what?" Harry was incredulous. "It is not an army. It was a nickname! It was the Defence Association first, but then we-."

"Silencio!"

Hermione hissed through her teeth as Umbridge silenced Harry's protests.

"Thank you, Dolores. You can save your lies for the interrogation room, Potter."

Ron then saw the name plaques of Kingsley and Dawlish returning in their direction. He met Hermione's look. Harry didn't have much time left. The aurors made their way into the office. Through the ear, they heard the sound of the door opening.

"Minister, the school is locked down, but there is no sign of Dumbledore. I believe he is long gone," Kingsley said, his deep voice instantly recognisable.

"Yes, yes, very regrettable." Fudge said distractedly. "But we won't be going away empty handed. Place Potter under arrest."

There was a stilted silence.

"Sir, with respect, Potter is a minor and cannot be taken off the school grounds without an arrest warrant." Kingsley said. Hermione and Ron shared a hopeful look.

"Ah… ah of course. No matter, I'll write one now." Hermione's face fell.

"They can't arrest him," Ron said huskily, "they can't. It's Harry… Fudge is going to cause a public outcry."

"I don't think he cares, Ron," Hermione said squeakily, "he's determined to completely destroy Harry's reputation and prop up his own in the process."

"But… but it's wrong!" He said angrily, causing Hermione to hush him.

"I know… let's hear what they say when they arrest him. From what I read up for Harry's Hearing in the summer, Aurors have to, by Law, make sure whoever they are arresting is aware of their rights."

"Then… where will they take him?" Ron looked ill. "Azkaban?"

Hermione shook her head. "Harry's too young to be sent to Azkaban without sentencing."

Ron sighed in relief. "So they'll take him to the Ministry. That's not so bad."

"It's… still pretty bad." Hermione admitted. "We don't know how long he'll be in custody and he'll likely have to stay there until his trial. I… don't know when we'll see him…" Her eyes started to tear up. "Oh Harry… what have we done?"

"Shacklebolt… here. You may do the honours," Fudge's voice broke the silence. "Oh how I have waited for this… "

"Bastard…"

"Finite."

"You… can't…" Harry was speechless when the silencing charm came off. The sound of his disbelief caused Hermione's tears to fall loose.

"Harry Potter, you are under arrest on suspicion of conspiracy against the Ministry." Kingsley's voice was deep and low. Ron and Hermione were silent.

"You are now in the custody of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement where you will be formally processed, detained and questioned. While in our custody, you have the right to legal counsel and representation. Anything you say or do will be used as evidence, either in support or against you. You must now surrender your wand and magic."

There was a low voice, inaudible, which sounded like Kingsley.

"I have his wand here," Umbridge said.

"Hand it over to me," Dawlish told her, "We have to log it with all of Potter's effects."

Hermione expected Umbridge to be reluctant to give his wand over. She then heard a distinct click of metal. She gave a gasp, realising that the sound was Harry being handcuffed.

There was a rushing sound as the floo activated. Ron gave Hermione a terrified look. They were about to lose their best friend and there was nothing they could do.

"The Ministry of Magic," Dawlish called out. "We'll take him straight up to the holding cells. High-profile arrests cause a lot of disruption and Potter's a high-risk target."

Umbridge gave a tittering laugh. "Who in the Ministry will want to target Potter?"

"We currently have ten escaped convicts at large, Madame Umbridge, each of which have a vendetta against Potter. Do you not think it might reflect badly on you if he is harmed while in our custody?" Kingsley said in a firm, hard voice.

"Take him. I must stay to handle affairs and sort out the now vacant position of Headmaster. But don't worry, Potter, we shall be seeing a lot of each other over the next few weeks."

"You're making a… terrible mistake," Harry said haltingly.

Hermione could see Harry's name between Dawlish and Kingsley. They were likely holding him. She watched as they took him towards the fireplace.

Both of them held their breath as they watched the name of their best friend vanish from the map. Harry was gone.

Harry hated Floo travel, but he hadn't realised that there was actually a way for it to be a lot worse. Now he knew, as he stumbled and fell on his knees in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. He coughed up a lungful of hot air and magical embers, all the while trying to orient himself. His body felt stiff, every muscle deadened as if numbed. The cause were the bands of cold metal trapping his wrists behind his back, not only binding his hands but also binding his magic. It was incredibly uncomfortable, disorientating and terrifying. He felt utterly helpless.

Two men flanked him, picking him up from where he fell. He raised his head, blinking slowly, clearing his vision to see the large atrium. It was quieter than when he had been there last in the summer. Only a few Ministry workers moved about. The Daily Prophet stalll had packed up for the evening and the security desks were empty bar one.

"John, lead the way. I have Harry." If Dawlish found it odd that Kingsley was on first name basis with Harry, he didn't show it. The Auror gave a curt nod, his expression grim, as he set off ahead of them.

"We were introduced when you came here in the summer for your hearing," Kingsley said under his breath as he pulled Harry into step with him. "We haven't met any other time."

Harry looked up at the Auror, seeing that the man wasn't looking at him and was instead looking dead ahead, talking out the corner of his mouth.

"Okay," Harry said, not sure what else to say.

"So as we are familiar in some sense, I can get away with talking to you, but… not too much," Kingsley glanced at him. Harry caught his eye, understanding. He was there as an Auror, not as his ally, but he was still willing to help him.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Harry. You've got yourself in a lot of trouble, but the good news is that Fudge has no jurisdiction over you while in our custody. He may be the Minister, but he has to abide by the law."

Kingsley was very good at talking without moving his mouth too much. Harry had to really listen in to hear what he was saying. It didn't help when they passed two women who did a double take when they saw Harry, their mouths dropping open in shock.

"Am… am I going to Azkaban?" Harry asked quietly, his voice shaking a little as the reality of his situation started to hit him properly. "What's going to happen to me?"

"We don't send minors to Azkaban without a prison sentence, Harry," Kingsley assured him, "and you haven't been charged with anything. You're under arrest, but on suspicion. It's down to my Department to charge you, not the Minister. He can authorise arrests, but that's it."

"I… I don't understand…"

"Merlin's Beard, they've arrested a child!" A group of Ministry workers in front of them had frozen when they saw who Kingsley was pulling along with him.

"Move along," Dawlish told them.

"That's Harry Potter?"

"Um, we might have a problem," Harry said to Kingsley as he heard his name repeated a few more times. Dawlish ushered them back threateningly, making sure they kept their distance.

"This is just the start," Kingsley said grimly, "Fudge is so determined to save his reputation by using you and Dumbledore as scapegoats, he's forgotten why you are publicly recognised in the first place. There is going to be a public outcry when your arrest hits print and it will."

"The papers belong to Fudge. They'll just say that I'm getting what I deserve," Harry said bitterly.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that. While they have been less than supportive of you, even The Daily Prophet won't publicly advocate arresting you. Too many people still view you as the one who ended a war that cost many lives."

They were coming up to the lifts. Harry's heart was thundering in his chest. Kingsley must have noticed how ill with nerves he was as he gave a soft sigh.

"When we get to the Department, you'll be processed and put into lock up where you can get changed and have a rest. You'll get something to eat and drink too." Kingsley purposefully slowed down so they would have longer to talk. "It will take some time for us to review all the evidence and process your paperwork. Then when we're ready for you, we'll question you as a suspect. Know this, Harry, you are a suspect . Deny the accusations made against you and provide as much proof as you can. If you weaken the case against you, it will make it harder for Fudge to present a solid case as your prosecution in front of the Wizengamot."

Harry listened, panicking. He wished he had even half of Hermione's smarts. This all sounded impossible.

"One last thing. Trust Amelia Bones. If I know her as well as I do, she will be on a rampage when she finds out that Fudge has had you arrested."

"Why?"

"Because she believes that Voldemort has returned."

Harry looked up at him in surprise. The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement believed him?

"So… she'll hear me out?" Harry asked Kingsley, stunned. His situation was so dire, he didn't want to dare believe that he had any hope.

They were getting close to the lifts. Harry was running out of time with Kingsley.

"She will, though you must realise that there is every chance that you will be expelled from Hogwarts. There's no denying that you broke the law."

It was a bitter truth but one that Harry had already confronted and accepted.

"I know," he said, "but I had every reason to do it."

"Then let her know that. Convince her that you did… and maybe…" Kingsley slowed his pace. Harry noticed that they were drawing closer to Dawlish. "I admit, a lot of what happened in the office earlier is going to be hard to dispute. Albus's confession has done more harm to you than good. I don't believe he expected Fudge to make do on his threat to arrest you."

Harry was surprised to hear Kingsley admit that Dumbledore had made a mistake.

"Why did he do it? Why did he leave?" He asked, hating how small and hurt his voice sounded.

"Because while you are innocent of conspiring against Fudge, Dumbledore is not as clean."

"I see," he said bleakly.

"I'm not going to be able to help outside of my job without being suspicious. I'm sorry… you do have supporters in the Department, but there are some who believe that you are Dumbledore's puppet." They were close to Dawlish. "Never drop your guard, Harry. This will be a fight, but it's one you can win."

When they rejoined with Dawlish, the older man took Harry's other arm. Harry looked across at the man. He hadn't studied the other Auror before. Up close, he could see that the man was very stressed. His jaw was clenched tightly and his brow was heavily furrowed. His hold on Harry's arm was tighter than Kingsley's.

The two Aurors between them walked him into one of the open lifts. Harry was very aware of the audience at his back, feeling thoroughly humiliated by the experience as a whole. His face was flushing as he twisted his hands at his back. His shoulders were already aching from where he was restrained, his skin rubbing at where the metal cuffs were tightly bound around his wrists. Kingsley certainly hadn't given him any special treatment when he cuffed him.

The lift was empty, which was a relief. Harry walked in with his escort, his heart racing as he was taken into the unknown. His imagination was running wild.

What did Kingsley say? I'm going to be processed and put in 'lock up'. Is that a prison?

He pictured bars and a dingy cell. The thought horrified him. It struck him only then, when the golden doors clattered shut, how little he actually knew about Magical Law Enforcement. It felt like a massive oversight when he had thoughts of joining the Department himself when he graduated. Though now, those thoughts were dreams. He was likely never going back to Hogwarts and doubted he'd get a job as an Auror now with a criminal record.

"While you're in our custody, Potter, you do as we say when we say it," Dawlish told him as he leaned over to press the button for Level two. The Lift dropped, making Harry's stomach lurch. "No questions asked, got it?"

Harry bit on his tongue, his anger flaring at the man's tone. He just gave him a stiff nod in response. He was going to have to cooperate. Being obstinate would only harm his case.

"Good. Now, I expect there is going to be a lot of fuss when we take you through to processing, so keep your head down and keep moving. Don't stop. Shacklebolt and I are here to protect you as much as guard you."

The lift suddenly clattered to a halt and the doors rattled open.

"Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamot Administration Services."

Both Dawlish and Kingsley moved him forwards and he complied. They emerged in a hallway that Harry recognised from his brief foray into the Department in the summer. His Hearing had first been scheduled to take place in Amelia Bones's office, but Fudge changed it to the Courtrooms. Rather than head straight down the corridor like last time, Harry was turned sharply to the right and caught sight of doors that he hadn't spotted the last time.

There were two wizards in red robes who had been idly standing guard. Upon seeing Dawlish and Kingsley, they immediately straightened and stood to attention. Harry spotted that they both wore belts with a holster for their wands and sported handcuffs. They appeared to be Ministry security.

"Evening Shacklebolt, Dawlish," one of them snapped out at once.

"Evening Foyle."

"What are you doing with a school kid?" The other croaked out incredulously.

"He's under arrest," was all Kingsley said to them. "We have a warrant… I take it we have a holding cell free."

"Believe so."

The security guards opened the doors for them as Harry was brought over. He caught sight of a large room beyond before noticing that one of the guards was peering at his face curiously. Harry met his stare and the guard's eyes widened, gaze moving immediately to his forehead. Unable to flatten his fringe against his scar, it was fully exposed for them to see.

"Bloody hell…" Harry immediately dropped his head as he was yanked through the doorway. "That… that's Harry Potter."

Harry was tugged into what looked a lot like a reception area. A large desk dominated the room, adorned with a plaque that bore the Ministry crest. Three witches sat behind it, lilac memos zipping around their heads. Against the opposite wall, a bench ran the length of the room. His heart dropped when he saw that there were people waiting. It didn't help that they heard the guard say his name and they looked over curiously.

"Straight to the desk. We should get you cleared to go through to processing without a problem." Harry was grateful to hear that, especially when he heard the rough whispers behind him and caught the open shock on the visitors waiting. More witnesses to his public humiliation. Thankfully there wasn't a queue. While the thought of being locked up in a cell was mortifying, having people stare at him while in handcuffs seemed a lot worse.

Kingsley released Harry and went to the first witch on the left. He rang the bell on the desk and she looked up, smiling pleasantly at him.

"Evening Kingsley, you aren't usually here at this hour."

"I was called to attend the Minister on a… rather important case, Amanda." He turned and Dawlish brought Harry up to the desk. "I need to process this suspect and place him in protective custody."

The receptionist looked up, her tired eyes widening the moment she saw Harry, no doubt startled by his youth. But then she recognised him and her mouth dropped open. Harry looked away as her eyes performed the usual flick up to his scar.

"I… I see. You have a warrant."

"Here." Kingsley took the hastily written arrest warrant from his robes and passed it through a slot in the glass screen that shielded the receptionist. She took it, taking her glasses from where she had them hanging around her neck. She read it quickly, blood draining from her face. She then turned to her colleagues.

"Patricia, can you take this to the Head's office?" She handed the warrant to the woman at her side. She took it nonchalantly, nodding, not thinking it anything too important, until she read the contents and she gasped loudly, her head snapping up to look at Harry.

"Sweet Merlin…" Her voice was thin with shock. She pushed herself out of her seat and immediately dashed for a door on the left. Above it read 'Authorised Personnel Only'.

The witch on the far side of the desk was staring at Harry with open horror. Her quill froze in mid air.

"Are you the arresting officer, Kingsley?" The first witch asked him.

"I am."

"Good… well… if you can please then follow me with Mr Potter and we will process him… before this gains attention." She shakily stood, looking over to her colleague.

Dawlish let go of Harry, giving him a nod, which surprised him a little as he had the impression that the auror didn't like him. Kingsley turned him around, pulling him in step with him. The woman had taken some documents from her desk and was heading to a door at the end of the room. She pushed it open and held it for them to enter. Kingsley said his thanks and took Harry in.

"What's going on?" Harry asked Kingsley quietly.

"Just do as you're instructed and there will be nothing to worry about," Kingsley replied, a little sternly. Harry eyed the woman and then ducked his head. He was brought over to a table. The woman moved behind it, putting down the documents that she carried with her. There was a quill and ink waiting. The moment she put down the parchment, the quill lifted up and took it's position on the top form.

"Full name?"

Harry just stared, his fear and anxiety blanking his mind. It took him a moment that she was asking him his name. He couldn't remember the last time someone had asked his name. He cleared his throat and answered

"Harry James Potter."

The quill began to scratch. He glanced over, seeing then that the form was for his personal details.

"Date of birth?"

It took him a moment to remember it.

"31st July 1980."

"Blood status?"

Harry started at the question. He glanced at the form, then back up to her again. When he didn't answer, Kingsley cleared his throat.

"Is that really necessary, Amanda?" He asked. She wore a slightly sheepish look.

"It's the procedure…"

"Harry Potter is half-blood. His father was pureblood and his mother muggleborn." He said quickly. Harry gave him a grateful look. He'd never heard himself refered to as a 'half-blood' before.

"Thank you, Kingsley," the woman said softly, looking rather embarrassed. She then met Harry's gaze again.

"Next of kin?"

Harry opened his mouth and closed it. She looked up and then her eyes widened as she realised what she had just asked him.

"Your… guardian's name?" She corrected. He cringed and let a breath out of his nose. His guardian was technically Sirius, but as he was a wanted man, he couldn't exactly be responsible for him. Legally, his guardians were still the Dursleys.

"Petunia Dursley," he said bitterly.

"Relation to you?"

"Aunt…" he said through gritted teeth. He saw the quill scratching. He hoped that this didn't mean that a letter would be sent to the Dursleys about his arrest. "But… she's a muggle." She frowned and then looked over to the document.

"Do you have any magical guardians?"

"Amanda… there may be something you should know," Kingsley said before Harry could answer. "Ordinarily, Harry's magical guardian and legal representative would be Albus Dumbledore, but as of tonight, he is currently wanted for conspiracy and so his status is currently revoked."

Amanda gaped at him. "Dumbledore is wanted…?"

"For conspiracy, yes. Same crime as Mr Potter, only unlike him, he is not in our custody. He… evaded arrest."

She absorbed this information silently. Harry shifted uncomfortably, his shoulders now very sore.

"Are you saying that Harry Potter has no magical guardianship?" She finally asked. "None whatsoever."

"That would be correct, Amanda."

She then looked at Harry.

"I can't believe that there is no one…" She sighed. "Mr Potter, if anything were to happen to you, who would you wish for us to contact?"

Alarm shot through him. If anything were to happen to him? He realised then what she was asking. He blanched and rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve the pain.

"I… I suppose Remus Lupin?" He said. "He… was a friend of my dad's."

He caught sight of a flash of sympathy in her eyes. The quill scratched away. Kingsley gave him a nod. He let out a breath of relief. It had been the right name to give, then.

"Relationship status?"

Harry nearly laughed.

"Um… I'm fifteen?" He saw Kingsley smile. "Single…"

He noticed a hint of humour light up on her face at his answer.

"Do you have any previous convictions?" She asked.

"Um… misuse of underage magic, but I was cleared. Other than that, no," he said nervously, as the quill scratched.

"Do you have any health conditions?"

"No?" He wasn't really sure if he did or not. Was being scared out of his mind a health condition?

"Any allergies?"

"No."

"Very good… now I need your hands so I can take your fingerprints. Turn around for me and rest your hands on the table. I'll take it from there."

Kingsley let go of his arm so he could do as he was told. Thoroughly humiliated, Harry turned his back and shuffled backwards so he could put his hands on the table. He had to lean forwards to do it. He bit at his lip as she grabbed at his hands and moved them about. She wasn't rough at least. She cast some spell on his fingertips that made them tingle and she pushed each finger tip down on the table.

"You can turn back around now, Mr Potter," she told him. He did so, his face on fire. As he did, he saw that there was now a wooden box on the table. At the front, he saw a label stuck on, letters spelled on.

Harry Potter

"We are going to have to confiscate all your belongings, Mr Potter. When you get to your cell, you will have to undress and hand in your clothes. We'll provide you with something to wear, of course…"

Harry swayed. Was this really happening? He could picture the prison robes that Sirius had been wearing on the night they first met. Would they put him in a set of grey-striped robes too?

He registered Kingsley patting him down. He could do nothing as the auror fished through his pockets. He didn't have much on him. A spare quill, a chocolate frog wrapper, a crumpled piece of parchment that might have been some revision notes that he forgot about. He was distantly relieved that he didn't have the Marauders' Map or his Invisibility Cloak on him. Kingsley then reached up and took his glasses.

"W…wait… I need those." He said hoarsely as Kingsley carefully folded the arms back and put them in the wooden box along with the rest of the junk.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but as they're glass, they could be used as a weapon."

"A weapon?" Harry gaped, blinking as he was stuck with his terrible eyesight. "But I'm half blind without them." He hung his head, utterly miserable. Being robbed of his sight was a further humiliation. He heard something jangling. Keys. Raising his head, he saw the woman fiddling with something behind him.

"You have his wand?"

"Right here," Kingsley reached into his robes, taking out Harry's beloved wand. He watched wretchedly as it was handed over and put in with his glasses.

The woman then picked up the documents and placed them in with his belongings. She then picked up the box and carried it away, moving out of sight behind some sort of partition. Harry couldn't see her anyway without his glasses.

"I'll try to get your glasses returned to you…" Kingsley said quietly, "have them charmed so they can't be smashed."

Harry just nodded in response.

"Everything will be returned to you when you're released."

"If… I'm released."

Kingsley sighed. "I know it feels desolate right now, but you'll get through this," he said in his calm, deep voice. Harry didn't respond.

The woman returned with another box, only this one was set with a label that read 'inmate 5'. Well, at least he knew what he was classified as now. Inmate. A prisoner. He spied dark cloth and felt a bit of relief. No grey-stripes.

"Let's get you settled in then, Mr Potter," she said, giving him a direct look. Kingsley set him off to follow the woman who was heading towards a corridor that lurked outside of Harry's visual range. It was horribly disorientating to walk without his full faculties. He squinted around, but gave up and looked down at his feet instead, walking in step with Kingsley.

When he heard the distinctive sound of a key scraping into a lock, Harry looked up and saw that they were in a narrow corridor. The walls were a miserable shade of grey and there were no windows. Five doors ran down the wall on the right. He studied the one closest. It was solid metal with a number 3 painted on in black. Cells.

A door creaked open at the far end. Harry knew where he was going. Kingsley took him through, guiding him into his new room.

To Harry's astonishment, it wasn't that bad. It was around the same size as his bedroom at Privet Drive only there was a small wash area partitioned off in the furthest corner. There was even a shower. Kingsley took him over to the bed and the woman followed them in. She put the box down on the bed and then gave Kingsley a pointed look.

"There will be a guard stationed outside at all times for your protection. No one without authorisation will be allowed near your cell while you are here. When they are ready to interview you, a guard will collect you, but I suspect it will not be until tomorrow morning," she looked across to Kingsley, "I expect it is going to be a long night for some."

Kingsley gave a short laugh. "Indeed it will. Thanks Amanda. I will take it from here." She gave him a nod. She hovered for a moment, then handed Kingsley the keys. Harry watched the exchange, the pit in his stomach widening.

"Try to get some rest," she said softly to Harry, "someone will be by soon with something to eat and drink."

He looked up at her. "Okay. Thank you."

She recoiled a little, her expression falling, then she turned away, leaving the room.

"Turn around Harry so I can take the inhibitors off," Kingsley said to him the moment the woman was gone. Harry closed his eyes and turned, facing the wall. He felt Kingsley's fingers on his wrists, then felt him tap the cuffs with his wand. He breathed out a sigh of relief as the metal loosened. When they were removed, he immediately brought his arms around to his front, his shoulders popping as he did. He rubbed at his sore wrists, looking down to see the red marks.

"Right, you're going to have to take everything off. You can't have anything that you brought with you while in our custody. I know it's hard to believe, but we have had inmates manage to bring cursed items in their undergarments."

"I… see," Harry mumbled.

"I'll leave you to get undressed. Let me know when you're done and I'll collect everything and take it with me."

Harry nodded, grateful that Kingsley was giving him privacy. The Auror stepped out into the corridor, shutting the door. He didn't lock it.

Alone, Harry let out a shaky breath. He brought his hands to his face. His whole body was shaking from adrenaline. He didn't want to face his cell yet, not wanting to confirm that he was, in fact, in a prison. He moved over to the box on the bed, upturning it to spill all the contents onto the sheet. There was a toothbrush, some toothpaste, what looked like some soap, a towel, a cup, and then the clothes. He picked them up. They weren't too bad. A black vest, black trousers and then black robes. He cringed at the pair of briefs. He hadn't worn briefs since he was a little boy.

Do wizards normally wear briefs, not boxers? He found himself wondering, then gave a soft laugh. He was a prisoner in the Ministry and he was thinking about pants.

He didn't think it would be a good idea to leave Kingsley waiting, not if he didn't want anyone to be suspicious. He removed his school robe, folding it carefully. A lump rose in his throat as he tugged off his tie. Would he ever wear this uniform again? Tears started to smart in his eyes. He couldn't stop himself. It was too much for him to handle.

Sniffing, he undressed, stripping completely down until he was naked. He brought his arms around himself, shivering, a gesture that he hadn't done in many years as he comforted himself. He gave a soft sob, looking down at the box, seeing the red and gold tie. Before he could lose his control, he pulled on the Ministry inmate uniform. It didn't fit too badly. The vest was strange, but it was hidden when he pulled the robe on and fastened it in the middle. It was completely plain and nondescript. No prisoner number or anything.

They hadn't given him any shoes or socks, so he let Kingsley know he was done. The auror entered and checked over his clothes, making sure that he wasn't wearing anything he wasn't supposed to. He then surprised Harry by gripping his arm, making him look up at him.

"Wh… what happens now?" Harry asked shakily. The claustrophobia of being in a cell was taking its toll already.

"For you or for me?" Kingsley asked him with a wry glint in his eye.

"For me, I guess. I take it I… I'm not allowed to contact anyone or see anyone."

"Hmm… I don't see why you won't be able to write, but you'll be supervised."

"What about… visits?"

"Legal representatives only, I'm afraid."

"And I don't have any," Harry glumly said, "so I don't… I can't see Ron or Hermione."

"We'll see what we can do, Harry. I will look into letting you correspond with your friends." Harry could feel the walls closing down on him.

"Right…" He nodded, more to himself than to what Kingsley had said. "Shit… shit…" He was starting to panic. He could feel it coming on him in waves. He hadn't felt like this since the Triwizard Tournament when he had been waiting to face a dragon. Kingsley sighed softly.

"I'm sorry this is happening to you," he said gently, "you don't deserve this… any of it. It's… horrendous that Fudge would go this far."

He let go of Harry's arm. "He's banking on you caving to the pressure and expects you to drop your story. Show him what you're made of, Harry. Show him that you're a Potter through and through and will fight back with everything you have."

Harry looked up at Kingsley at that, then distinctly remembered that when they first met, the Auror had remarked on how much he looked like his father.

"You knew my dad?"

"I did. He had a seat on the Wizengamot."

"Really?" Harry was astonished.

"Oh yes. And he never backed down from a fight," he let go of Harry's arm, "I think you have that in common."

Harry held his gaze and then he nodded.

"I'm not going down without a fight."

"Good lad!" Kingsley nodded at him. "Now, rest up, and…" He glanced over his shoulder, debating something for a moment, before looking back at him. "Have a good think about your defence. Think about how to prove that Fudge is blatantly ignoring Voldemort's return. Any proof you have of him directly interfering and covering up your story will work in your favour. Him and Umbridge. Don't worry about defending Dumbledore's actions as well. Worry only about yourself, understand?"

Harry gave a slow nod despite being confused. Why would Kingsley tell him that when he was in the Order?

"Stick to the truth. The Auror Office handles questioning so it'll be someone from my office. Likely, it'll be Scrimgeour himself. Whoever it is, they will be an expert at trying to catch you out. Don't give them the chance."

Harry nodded. "Okay. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow." He patted Harry on the arm and turned, carrying the box with Harry's school uniform. "Good luck, Harry."

Seeing the door shut behind Kingsley was among one of the most horrible things Harry witnessed. The scrape of the key in the lock added to the image, making him want to sink to his knees and break down. He didn't. He stood, alone, in his prison cell. He couldn't even hear Kingsley's footsteps as he left. The silence was hideously thick. He could hear the thundering of his heart, his rapid breathing.

His shell-shocked mind flashed through the events of the day. The morning felt like months ago. Like it belonged to someone else's life.

He didn't know how long he stood there, frozen, trapped in his panicked thoughts. The clatter at his door snapped him back to his body as the hatch at the bottom opened. Someone pushed a tray through the now opened slot. He hadn't noticed the hatch before. It was horribly similar to the cat flap set in his bedroom door at Privet Drive.

"Some supper, Potter." A gruff voice told him on the other side of the door. He didn't recognise the voice and imagined that it was one of the security guards that he had seen around. "Leave the tray at the door when you're finished and it'll be picked up when you get your breakfast."

He didn't get the chance to respond before the hatch slammed shut. He swayed, his legs aching. He had been standing for hours and felt very exhausted.

Action felt like a good choice. Doing something would stop him from thinking so much. He gathered his meagre belongings from the bed and searched for somewhere to put them. He explored his cell as he did. The cupboard was empty, as were the drawers under the desk. There was a single roll of toilet paper in the bathroom. He had only been given a single towel so he hung it off the rail provided. The toiletries went on a shelf above the sink.

He busied himself with the toilet, then washed his hands and face. He froze when he raised his head and found himself staring at his reflection. He suspected the mirror was unbreakable, considering that he wasn't even allowed his glasses. He wore his glasses so much, he nearly didn't recognise himself without them.

He looked as tired as he felt. His eyes were a little red-rimmed. He sighed, reaching for the towel and dried his face.

Supper was a surprise. He half-expected prison slop. Instead he had two slices of toast with some marmalade. He filled his cup with water at the sink and settled at his desk, eating his humble fare quickly. He had been famished.

Without anything else to do once he put the tray down at the door as told, he considered the bed. They hadn't provided him with sleepwear and he didn't really want to strip down to his pants in case he had a visitor in the night. He removed the robe, hanging it on the back of his chair.

The bed, as it turned out, was vastly more comfortable than the ancient mattress he had at Privet Drive. He pulled back the sheets and settled down, surprised at the level of comfort. The moment he lay back, he felt a wave of tiredness.

He stared up at the charmed light in the ceiling. He frowned. How was he supposed to turn off the light?

"Nox?" He said, hopefully. Immediately, he was plunged in darkness.

"Lumos…" he tested and the light came back on. He gave a sigh of relief and turned the light off again. He had some control of his surroundings at least.

He rolled over to his side, closing his eyes, and willed himself to imagine that he was anywhere else. It was a good thing he was so tired as soon enough, he drifted off to sleep.

Amelia Bones detested interruptions, but unfortunately, as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, they were unavoidable. She was in the middle of reading a report on the most recent inspection of Azkaban's security when there was a timid knock at her office door. She angrily sighed, putting down the report and returned her monocle to her face.

"Yes, yes, who is it?" She impatiently snapped. The door inched open. Amelia recognised the receptionist from the night shift. It was unusual for them to come directly to her. Civilian issues were normally always passed straight to the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol, then if serious enough, they were to the Auror Office. Only very, very important cases made their way to her office. Apprehensive stirred in her gut at once. With Death Eaters on the loose and rumours of a risen Dark Lord afoot, any case serious enough to disturb her had to be bad news indeed.

"Madame Bones, I apologise for the intrusion, but a high-profile suspect has been brought into custody and… you should see the warrant."

"High-profile?" She snapped.

"Yes ma'am."

"Well, who is it?" She wasn't a harsh woman, but she was stern. The receptionist nervously entered her office. She didn't answer, choosing instead to approach her desk. Amelia narrowed her eyes, but figured that reading the warrant for herself would answer any questions. The receptionist was shaking, intensely unnerved. That didn't bode well either. Employees of Magical Law Enforcement, even their admin staff, had to have some level of grit about them.

She handed over the arrest warrant. Amelia leaned forward, taking the scrap of parchment. Peering down, she felt a stab of alarm as she recognised Cornelius Fudge's neat handwriting.

Her monocle dropped out from her eye when she read it.

She read it over twice, making sure she wasn't mistaken. Then she sat back. Her first thought was that Fudge must have finally lost his mind, but then she looked up at the receptionist.

"When did you receive this warrant?"

"Just now, ma'am?"

"Just now?" She stared hard at the woman. "Are you telling me that Harry Potter is in the building, right now, in Ministry custody?"

"Y-yes ma'am. Aurors Dawlish and Shacklebolt brought him in."

There was another knock at the door. Amelia put her monocle back in place. She rose from her seat at the sight of the Auror, snatching the warrant from the desk.

"John, I hope you are here to debrief and tell me exactly why Cornelius Fudge has decided that Harry Potter is guilty of conspiracy."

"Do you still have that bottle of Firewhiskey?" Dawlish asked her instead, wearily entering her office.

"I do."

"You're going to need it."

As it turned out, he was right. After fully debriefing with his superior, she sat in stony silence, staring at him. She still held the warrant in her hand as wave upon wave of outrage surged through her.

She then pulled a memo sheet to her and summoned a quill to her hand with a bit of wandless magic.

"We are going to need all the evidence that Dolores Umbridge has accumulated on Potter and Dumbledore's plot against the Ministry. I want that member list in front of me. I want the transcript that they sent to the Prophet. See if you can get ahead of them printing it, but I suspect it's already gone."

"Yes ma'am."

"This Miss Edgecombe… you say that she had been hexed and made incapable of testifying?"

"Yes ma'am. I believe that they had counter measures to protect their secret organisation from being exposed."

"Hmm… I will file a request to have the girl sent to St Mungo's and we can then question her properly then. This is a criminal investigation now and we will follow everything to the letter. I take it Shacklebolt is the arresting officer?"

"Yes ma'am. He has taken the suspect to lock up."

"Excellent. Now you say that Cornelius is still at the school?"

"Yes ma'am. With Dumbledore's flight, the school is without a headmaster. He is… remedying the situation."

"Let me guess, by placing Dolores Umbridge as Headmistress?"

Dawlish nodded.

"That will not go down well at all…" she shook her head, sighing, "but it is the least of his worries. Hmm… if Cornelius is occupied at the school, then he cannot get in my way. See to everything, John, and when you see Shacklebolt, send him my way."

"Yes ma'am, I will do." He departed at once, leaving Amelia with her large measure of firewhiskey.

She wrote several memos, charming them into flight. Most were going to offices within the Department, some to different floors. She then stood up, pacing in her office with her glass, her mind hard at work. Her fingers tapped the glass.

Ever since Harry Potter's Hearing, she had felt ill at ease with Fudge's denouncement of Dumbledore and his claims that Voldemort was back. While she did not have the best opinion of Dumbledore, as some part of her still blamed him for getting her brother killed in the last war, she did respect that he was very unlikely to lie about Voldemort's return. And after how Potter presented himself during the Hearing, she didn't believe that the boy himself was a liar either. Hot-headed and impetuous, certainly, but could she blame him?

Cornelius's obsession with Dumbledore trying to out-manoeuvre him was bordering on paranoia. He had stepped on a lot of toes in getting Dolores the professor position, even more when he gave her more influence and authority as High Inquisitor.

And then there was what her niece told her during the Christmas break about how Dolores wasn't allowing them to use magic in the classroom. Fudge's interference in the school was now bordering on sabotaging the children's education, something that would very much lower his reputation when so many within the Ministry had children and relations at the school.

If the children were being neglected by their educators, causing someone to take matters into their own hands, whose fault was that? Surely the blame lay in the educators for failing in their duty?

But that was if the organisation had been set up purely to learn defensive magic. While it went against the Ministerial Decree, it wasn't exactly a crime. It wasn't worth the Wizengamot's time. But if the organisation was a militia, if their motives were political, dangerous…

No, Amelia knew that Dumbledore would never use school children in his objectives. He had his own private organisation, one she was all too aware of as her late brother had been a member. A fact that had gotten him murdered and, in turn, their parents as they had been at his house at the time. Dumbledore would certainly stoop to vigilantism and take the law into his own hands, but he would never endanger children.

She knew that she couldn't trust this case with anyone else. Harry Potter was far too high-profile for her to trust to anyone else.

There was yet again another knock at her door. She sighed.

"Come in," she said.

Kingsley Shacklebolt strode into the office.

"Amelia… I take it you have heard by now?"

"The news did not come to me in a manner I appreciate, but yes, I have," she said sharply, then she smiled at her old friend, "firewhiskey?"

A very smug Cornelius Fudge finally turned up to her office at two in the morning. He delivered his 'evidence' which turned out to be a sheet of parchment with a list of signatures. Amelia curtly gave her thanks. Before he left, she eyed him, irritated that he had withheld evidence for as long as he did and all he had were witness accounts, not recorded, and a single sheet of parchment.

"I am not Barty Crouch, Cornelius," she told him, "I believe in innocent until proven otherwise. Until I see undeniable proof that Potter and Dumbledore are conspiring against the Ministry and plotting a coup, then I will act accordingly. However, if we discover that there is no conspiracy, that you have accused a young man of a crime on baseless evidence, then I will act in his defence if you choose to press charges."

He spun his bowler hat in his hands, studying the corner of her desk for a while, then gave her a painful smile.

"I trust that justice will be served, Amelia," he said, then gave her a small bow, "I expect to be informed when you begin questioning."

"You will be limited to observation only, Minister," she reminded him, "as will I. The Auror Office handles questioning suspects as you well know."

"Yes, yes, I know," he said impatiently in the way that she hated. "Tomorrow then."

"Today, actually, it's the early morning," she said, "and it will be a long day. For all of us."

When he left, Amelia snipped at her second glass of firewhiskey and picked up the precious evidence that the Minister gave her. She read the name that the club had called themselves.

"Well, it's certainly brazen, I'll give them that," she said. She noted that Potter's name was at the top. Her keen eye spotted that the handwriting that had penned the club name was the same hand that had signed as 'Hermione Granger'. Her eye went down the list.

She choked on her firewhiskey as her gaze latched on a very familiar name indeed.

Susan Bones.

She sat back in her chair. Her niece was in the group. Without hesitation, she grabbed a sheet of parchment, took up her quill, and immediately wrote her niece a letter.