Harry dismissed his Patronus, pocketed his wand and sat cross legged on the cracked asphalt between the torn robes and the lifeless skeletal corpses of two impossibly large Dementors.

All was calm, and he waited.

Less than two minutes later, the alleyway echoed with cracks of apparition. A half dozen aurors appeared in a tight combat formation less than ten yards away, their wands pointed directly at Harry.

"Holy shit." The wizard nearest him lost all composure as soon as his eyes fell upon the Dementor corpse at his feet.

For a moment they stirred, unsettled by the violent scene before them. A voice behind the lead auror whispered, just loud enough for Harry to overhear. "They're Dementors, Dawlish. He's killed both of them. If they—"

"Enough!" Dawlish snapped. "You know what to do."

He turned his attention to Harry, pointing his wand menacingly. "Harry Potter, you have violated the International Statute of Secrecy and the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. You have compromised our community and threatened our world. You will surrender your wand or it will be forcibly taken."

Harry nodded. "The body of my cousin, Dudley Dursley, is laying eighty yards in that direction." He pointed. "He's received the Dementor's kiss. His mother, my Aunt Petunia Dursley, has likely collapsed in her home — No. 4 Privet Drive."

The resolve of the team of aurors was visibly shaken. Dawlish stumbled over the revelation. "Your… your cousin's been kissed?"

"That's correct."

He hesitated for just a moment, until his jaw visibly tightened. "Williamson. Savage. Retrieve the body; transport it to the medical unit for evaluation. Return for these… corpses. Transport them to the morgue and tag as evidence."

Harry held out his wand, which Dawlish snatched out of his hand. The remaining aurors bound Harry's hands and escorted him to the pavement before No. 4 Privet Drive. Dawlish himself entered the front door and emerged a moment later, Petunia forcibly restrained and levitating behind him.

"Smith. Take her to interrogation. Roberts. Take him to the holding cell. Stand guard until I arrive."

For the next twenty hours, Harry laid on a white, thinly padded stainless steel bunk, in a square, thinly padded cell lit brightly with a harsh white light. He was offered no food or drink. There was a small, stainless steel toilet in the corner.

At intervals, he pivoted to the edge of the bunk, set his bare feet flat against the concrete floor, and reflected.

Dudley.

He'd never so profoundly hated anyone. And yet.

What he could have been. It haunted Harry, every time he closed his eyes. Beyond the abuse, beyond the schoolhouse bullying. Harry imagined what Dudley may have been, free from the influence of Vernon and Petunia. He hadn't a chance.

Harry grieved the death of his cousin in that small cell. A death that had begun years ago, of which an alley kiss was merely the finishing blow.

At precisely ten, Harry's cell door opened. He was bound anew, and escorted down a series of white marble hallways.

Harry entered the lower chambers of the Wizengamot session to the hum of a dozen hushed conversations. It was a large, circular dungeon of dark stone walls, lit ominously by the flicker of torchlight. Tiers of plum-robed witches and wizards towered in a semi-circular balcony above him. As soon as he came into view, the room stilled.

Harry was escorted to a very old, wooden chair at the center of the room. As soon as he sat down, coarse chains emerged, binding his arms and legs tightly. As Harry shifted his weight, the chains constricted painfully.

Sitting directly opposite Harry, at the very center of the front row of the Wizengamot hearing chambers, sat Cornelius Fudge, his features overshadowed by a grim hostility.

He struck the wooden gavel.

"The accused being present, let us begin." He scanned the row to his left, speaking in a ringing tone.

"Disciplinary hearing of the eighteenth of July into offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at No. 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

"Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of 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—"

A familiar voice interrupted the proceedings. "—Witnesses for the Defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Nymphadora Vulpecula Tonks, and Kingsley Augustine Shacklebolt."

Albus Dumbledore, wearing midnight-blue robes and an expression of humble gravity, strode serenely into the lower chambers. He was followed by a towering figure clad in black auror robes and a young, spritely witch with cropped, purple hair.

Fudge huffed, his expression overcome by impatient frustration. "Dumbledore. I don't recall seeing such an extensive witness list submitted for approval."

Dumbledore adopted a kind smile. "Ah. Perhaps you've forgotten, Minister, that witness list submissions are requisite only in the case of hearings scheduled publically at least seventy-two hours in advance. Indeed, this case — a full emergency session called twenty hours after a single recorded infraction of a minor — has, unless I'm terribly mistaken, no legal precedent."

He paused as the implication settled heavily on the governing body.

"Seventy-two…? Oh, very well." With furrowed brow, Fudge returned his attention to the parchment before him. "Now, if there aren't any further interruptions, let's—"

Dumbledore politely interrupted. "Actually, Minister, prior to proceedings I'd like to formally register a violation of the Decree for the Reasonable Treatment of the Accused."

Fudge was visibly thrown. "The Decree for the…"

Dumbledore nodded. "For the Reasonable Treatment of the Accused, yes. It appears that young Harry was held in a containment cell for twenty hours without access to food, water, or legal counsel. Is there legal precedent for such treatment, of a minor no less?"

At least half of the witches and wizards seated in the balcony stirred uncomfortably, many casting incredulous expressions at the Minister and his staff. The stone dungeon echoed with whispers.

Fudge had lost his balance. "I will… your concerns have been noted and will be investigated."

With every fiber of his remaining dignity, Fudge pressed on. "Now, to the matter at hand."

He looked directly at Harry.

"Harry James Potter, did you cast a Patronus charm in the presence of muggles yesterday morning, in direct defiance of the International Statute of Secrecy?"

Harry nodded. "Yes."

Fudge rallied. "And have you, Harry James Potter, been warned explicitly, on two prior occasions, to refrain from the use of underage magic outside the bounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?

Harry nodded. "Yes."

Fudge adopted a smug expression. "And have you been warned that further violation of such restrictions would result in expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and permanent Wand Confiscation?"

Harry nodded. "Yes."

Fudge turned dramatically to the robed figures surrounding him. "I see no reason to overcomplicate this matter. Clearly the boy has violated the clear boundaries of our laws, risked the safety of our community, and—"

Harry interrupted. "I was protecting my Aunt Petunia from the Dementors."

Fudge halted, turning with a bewildered expression. "The Dementors?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir." The chambers resonated with the excited whispers of renewed attention. "I was walking home yesterday afternoon when I heard a scream. I ran as quickly as I could to a nearby alley. There I found my Aunt, sobbing over the body of my cousin, Dudley Dursley. He'd been kissed by a Dementor."

At this, the legislative body erupted.

Fudge struck the wooden gavel three times. "Order!" He struck again twice. "Order!"

After a moment, the uproar was stifled more or less successfully.

Fudge, incredulous, feigned laughter. "Boy, you can't be suggesting that Dementors are running free in Little Whinging."

The towering figure behind Dumbledore stepped forward, standing confidently beside Harry. "It's true, Minister. Yesterday afternoon the corpses of two Dementors were delivered to our morgue and tagged as evidence. They were collected from the alleyway in question, immediately after Harry Potter was detained."

For a moment, Fudge was struck silent.

A witch toward Harry's right spoke. "Did you say corpses, Kingsley?"

He nodded. "That's correct, ma'am."

At this, Dumbledore waved his wand. The remains of two impossibly large Dementors appeared, slowly rotating in stasis at eye level of the upper chambers. Awestruck silence fell.

"Indeed, in his attempts to protect his family, young Harry himself cast a fully tangible Patronus, powerful enough to destroy both attackers in moments."

The governing body stirred with hushed conversation. Fudge, looking distinctly uncomfortable, rushed to recover the room. "That's hardly possible." He turned smugly to those to his left. "Such powerful magic is inaccessible to a boy of this age." He cast a suspicious glance at Dumbledore. "Perhaps this is yet another embellished fabrication?"

Kingsley spoke again. "We have thrice confirmed the sequence of events. An interview with the muggle, Petunia Evans Dursley, the record of which I've now submitted as evidence, confirms Harry's account precisely."

He paused, and his expression took on a dark gravity. "It should be noted that the muggle was forcibly detained by our response team. A muggle, magically bound and levitated, then apparated without preparation or explanation into an interrogation chamber — as she was grieving the tragic loss of her son. It's been decades since I've heard of such compassionless treatment of Muggles, and that not from this government."

He pressed on. "Potter's wand analysis confirms a successful — and quite powerful, it's worth noting — cast of Expecto Bellator at 2:23 yesterday afternoon. Potter has also volunteered his memory of the event, which I'm depositing in the pensieve for your review. Our specialists at the Department of Mysteries have confirmed it hasn't been tampered with."

At this, a large bowl around the size of a bird bath appeared directly before him, floating at waist height. Shacklebolt reached his hand into his robe and removed a small glass vial, from which he poured a bright thread of silvery liquid into the large, floating pensieve. He then tapped the bowl with his wand, and the bowl grew exponentially, rising to cover the breadth of the wall behind Harry, at eye level of the upper chamber.

Petunia Evans Dursley collapsed on the cracked asphalt, weeping in Harry's arms over the soulless body of her only son. He whispered to her, again and again, "I'm so sorry."

Until the daylight began to fade, and an icy wind cut through the alley.

"Aunt Petunia, I need you to run."

He stood. Darkness fell. The white mist of Petunia's breath was carried away by the cutting breeze.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, shoving his aunt toward her home. "LEAVE HIM!"

Harry pulled out his wand and sprinted down the alley, followed closely by two impossibly large Dementors.

A moment later, Harry halted at the intersection of two alleyways, turning to face his pursuers. They halted briefly around thirty yards away, and then the nearest Dementor followed a broad circle to face him on the opposite side of the intersection.

Their movement was coordinated.

As they fell violently upon him, Harry waved his wand and shouted "EXPECTO BELLATOR."

A fully tangible, bright white stag emerged from his wand at a dramatic pace, immediately tearing a hole through the first Dementor's chest. The remaining Dementor hesitated as Harry recalled his Patronus to face the opposite front. The stag reared back aggressively and trampled the retreating Dementor, leaving behind a twitching corpse. Harry dismissed his Patronus and sat down.

Two minutes later, a half dozen aurors arrived in combat formation, pointing their wands aggressively at Harry.

The chambers had exploded in a frenzied uproar. Furious shouts echoed the chambers as Fudge violently and repeatedly struck the gavel, shouting for order to no avail. At least half of the governing body had stood, protesting with shaken fists toward the ministry staff seated at the center of the chambers.

Nearly two minutes later, Dumbledore spoke.

"If I may."

Silence fell within seconds.

"I find myself struck by the nature of our gathering. Unless I'm terribly mistaken, never in the many years of this governing body has a case of underage magic prompted an emergency session. Never has a minor been held without access to legal counsel, food, or water. Never have chains bound a witch or wizard without a demonstrable history of violent crimes. We are, I'm afraid, facing an unprecedented abuse of power."

He paused, and the room resonated.

"Perhaps, however, this gathering of the most notable witches and wizards of our generation is fortuitous. For we've just been presented with most disturbing evidence — not, indeed, against the accused, but against the accuser."

At this, just to the left of Fudge, a square-jawed witch with very short, grey hair stood. "Well said, Albus. I fear a trespass of terrible consequence has unfolded before our eyes. I'm confounded as to the nature of these actions, and I'm unsettled to see that six of my staff actioned a combat formation less than two minutes after a minor infraction. My confidence in the chain of command has shattered."

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Indeed, Madam Bones."

Fudge, his features cast in a pale green, stumbled in defense. "Surely you don't think a member of my staff commissioned the execution of a child, with Dementors no less. It's a ridiculous notion." He feigned incredulous laughter. "I mean, who would do such a thing?"

At this, Nymphadora Tonks stepped forward, raised her arm, and pointed directly at a squat woman with a broad, toad-like face, sitting behind and just to the left of Fudge. "It was her."

He stumbled, half glancing at his Senior Undersecretary. "I'm sorry?"

Tonks smiled politely. "It was her. You asked, "Who would do such a thing?"

Fudge was clearly lost. "I'm afraid I don't follow."

Tonks smirked. "Let me be more clear. I was answering your question. You asked, 'Who could commission the execution of a child, with Dementors no less?' And the answer is that woman. Dolores Umbridge, your Senior Undersecretary. She did it."

Dolores Umbridge cocked her head slightly, her jaw clenched. After a moment, she spoke.

"I'm sure you're mistaken, child. The suggestion is ridiculous."

Tonks laughed. "I'm sure I'm not." She returned her gaze to Amelia Bones. "I saw her, at Stonehenge, two nights ago. She cast a ward and waited, and nearly a half hour later she was met by a pair of large Dementors."

Fudge's lips parted, and all hope was lost. "You… you were at Stonehenge?"

Tonks smiled. "Yes."

Fudge blinked. "And what were you doing at Stonehenge?"

Tonks grinned. "I like it there. It's where I spend my evenings, sometimes."

Fudge faltered. "And you saw…"

Tonks nodded. "I saw Dolores Umbridge meeting two large dementors. And I heard her commission the execution of Harry Potter. I can share the memory, if you'd like."

The room erupted again, and Fudge knew, just at that moment, that it was the end.