CHAPTER: 2 A DAY TO REMEMBER
Some days, it felt as though life had a personal vendetta against Harry Potter. Unfortunately, he knew all too well that if you bore the name Harry Potter, such days seemed to be part and parcel of your existence.
Today was one of those days, though it remained to be seen whether it would join the ranks of unforgettable misadventures or merely be another challenging chapter in his tumultuous life.
Amidst his melancholic contemplations and self-deprecating musings, an unexpected burst of laughter escaped Harry's lips. His outburst drew the curious gazes of his two companions, both of whom he was sure would scold him for his apparent cynicism if they were privy to his thoughts. Hermione, in her typical fashion, would likely be the voice of reason, while Ron would momentarily commiserate before returning to his own muttered grievances about life's inherent unfairness. And deep down, Harry couldn't help but nod in agreement with Ron's sentiment.
"Harry, I hardly think this is the time for levity," Hermione admonished. Her words carried a stern tone, but the compassion in her voice served as a reminder of the great fortune Harry had in having her as a friend.
"Sorry, Hermione," Harry replied, attempting to appear contrite, though his effort fell somewhat flat. "Something struck me as funny, that's all. If I don't laugh, I might just end up crying, and I'd rather avoid that."
Her gaze softened, and Hermione regarded him with an affection that was impossible to miss.
Ron, on the other hand, was less understanding. "What's gotten into you, mate?" he grumbled, his eyes darting between his two friends.
Harry shrugged. "Ron, what do you do when you're about to face a hearing that could result in your expulsion from the wizarding world? Should I throw a tantrum or just laugh it off? I choose laughter—it's better for my sanity."
"Don't talk like that, Harry," Ron muttered. "You won't be expelled."
Despite Ron's protest, Hermione's voice carried an underlying unease. "Ron's right, Harry. Dumbledore won't allow that to happen."
Harry could discern the tension in her words, even as she tried to maintain an air of confidence. He knew Hermione well enough to recognize the anxiety she felt for his well-being, concealed beneath a facade of courage. Warmth swelled within him as he looked at the young witch, contemplating how lucky he was to have her as a friend. Hermione was his most loyal ally, someone he could always rely on. Without her, he might have been lost amidst the complexities and injustices of the magical world.
Hermione blushed, her gaze dropping as she clearly felt uneasy under his scrutiny, though a faint smile played at the corners of her lips. Shifting his attention to Ron, Harry averted his gaze to the floor, knowing full well the suspicious glare his friend was directing at him. Harry was aware that Ron had developed feelings for Hermione. Since his arrival at Grimmauld Place nearly ten days ago, Ron had been vigilant, closely monitoring their interactions for any signs of deeper affection.
Ron was Harry's closest male friend and trusted comrade, even closer than Hermione. Their shared experiences as roommates and as boys had forged a unique bond between them. Harry valued Ron's loyalty and support throughout their years of friendship, especially in the face of danger. Ron had been a reliable friend and partner, from their first-year escapades with the Philosopher's Stone to their encounters with Acromantulas and the Chamber of Secrets in their second year.
However, when it came to Hermione, Harry understood that a clash of interests was inevitable. Should Harry ever decide to pursue a romantic relationship with his closest female friend, he and Ron would undoubtedly find themselves at odds. Harry recognized this, even if Ron did not, and he understood the territorial mindset that could manifest. Ron might consider Hermione his domain due to having expressed interest in her first, even though he had never explicitly communicated those feelings to her. It wasn't a fault of Ron's, but rather a reflection of his mindset—a mindset that Harry had learned to navigate through years of friendship.
As for Harry's own feelings regarding Hermione, they were a tangled web, not easily deciphered, even if he had dedicated more thought to the matter than he cared to admit. What he did know was that Hermione was someone he deeply cherished, his most steadfast confidante in a world that had often seemed hostile. She had stood by his side through every trial and tribulation since his arrival in the magical world. Not even Ron could claim that level of unwavering support.
Perhaps Harry's difficulty in understanding his own emotions was rooted in his tumultuous upbringing with the Dursleys. While he was aware of Hermione's transformation from the bushy-haired, plain girl of their early years into an attractive young woman, he struggled to define his feelings for her, lacking the emotional vocabulary to articulate them. Comprehending Hermione's emotions posed a similarly complex challenge, though her surreptitious glances—especially when she believed Harry wasn't looking—combined with the blush he had elicited earlier suggested that she too pondered the nature of their relationship.
Yet, amidst the turmoil of knowing that a deranged and recently resurrected dark wizard was actively hunting him, Harry hesitated to expose Hermione to even greater peril by openly acknowledging romantic feelings. With a wry snort, he acknowledged the potential tongue-lashing he'd receive from Hermione if she ever discovered his internal turmoil. Hermione would undoubtedly appreciate his protective instincts but would vehemently reject any decisions made on her behalf without her knowledge and consent. He could easily picture her indignation, considering that they were discussing matters of the heart—though they had never broached the subject, Harry believed he knew her well enough to understand that she would deem the risk of openly admitting romantic feelings to be worth taking for the sake of happiness.
"Harry," a hesitant voice pulled him from his reverie. "Are you all right?"
His eyes refocused on his friends, and he realized that he had remained silent for quite some time.
With a smile, he nodded to them and began putting on his sneakers. "I'm fine, Hermione. I'm just worried about the hearing."
Ron chimed in with confidence, "Dumbledore will take care of everything, Harry. You'll see."
"Thanks, Ron. I hope you're right. I'm trying to stay positive, but it's tough sometimes. Fudge has been after me ever since the tournament, and it looks like he's found his chance."
Both of his friends offered encouraging smiles, and Harry sighed, realizing that his overly pessimistic outlook wasn't doing him any favors and was clearly worrying his friends. He consciously decided to let go of his worries and accept whatever was to come.
But regardless of what awaited him, if Fudge intended to succeed in his campaign to discredit and remove Harry from the wizarding world, Harry promised himself that he wouldn't go down without a fight. If Fudge wanted to expel him, he wouldn't do so without Harry standing up for himself. If there was one thing Harry had learned in his fifteen years of life, it was never to back down from a bully, and that's exactly what Fudge had become.
A few moments later, Mr. Weasley entered the foyer of the worn-down house, signaling that it was time to go. Nodding, Harry bid a final farewell to his friends. He noticed Hermione's worried expression and Ron's attempt to be brave and positive. He thanked them both for their friendship and promised to see them again once this was all over. For now, he was headed to the Ministry and his uncertain destiny.
Later, Harry couldn't recall much about the journey to the Ministry building on that fateful day. He vaguely remembered walking down the steps of the old house to a waiting car and getting into the vehicle. But beyond that, the journey was a blur until they arrived at the old phone booth, which served as the entrance to the Ministry. If he had been thinking clearly at the time, he might have wondered why they were taking a car when they could have used the Floo network. He learned later that, although Mr. Weasley, as a Ministry employee, could have used the Floo network, it was standard procedure for visitors to enter through the phone booth. Additionally, they wanted to spare Harry the discomfort of Floo travel, and the longer car journey allowed him to gather his thoughts. But Harry wasn't thinking about any of that at the time.
No, his mind was consumed by thoughts of what might happen, and his subconscious kept replaying various scenarios of what a conviction could mean for him, whether real or imagined. Harry had contemplated that morning how much trouble he had experienced not only since his return to the wizarding world but throughout his entire life because of his existence. However, he now realized that he identified himself as a wizard. Despite the challenges and dangers, this world had become his life, and he had no desire to leave it.
Moreover, he couldn't leave Ron and Hermione behind. Their friendship and trust meant too much to him, and he couldn't abandon them in a world that might soon be dominated by a megalomaniac. Voldemort had targeted him all his life, which suggested that the dark wizard viewed Harry as a threat to his vision. If he was such a threat, Harry was determined to be a constant thorn in Voldemort's side. This resolve strengthened his determination to face Fudge head-on and challenge him. He wouldn't be passive and vulnerable in front of the Minister. Fudge wouldn't find a compliant child in Harry Potter.
These thoughts couldn't be dwelled upon, however, as they arrived at the entrance to the Ministry, and Harry knew it was time. With a nod, he said his final goodbyes to his friends, taking in Hermione's worried frown and Ron's brave attempt to stay positive. He thanked them again and promised to see them on the other side of this ordeal. For now, he was headed to courtroom number ten and whatever lay in store.
Inside the Ministry's atrium, it was clear that the trial had attracted a significant crowd. It was a regular business day, but the sensational nature of the trial had drawn many curious onlookers. As Harry and his companions entered the atrium, the noise level dropped, and countless heads turned in his direction, as if in unison. Soft whispers began, accompanied by gestures toward him. The atmosphere was hard to read, neither hostile nor friendly, but he sensed the overwhelming interest in his trial.
Harry suspected that the large crowd was due to the unusual nature of his trial. He had done some research with Hermione's help over the past week and discovered that no one charged with underage magic use had ever been tried before the entire Wizengamot. This was Fudge's opportunity to humble the famous Boy-Who-Lived while positioning himself as the voice of reason and protector of the people. Harry couldn't help but wish for a different confrontation, one where Fudge would face Voldemort himself. The Minister wouldn't last long against the dark wizard.
Following Mr. Weasley through the atrium, Harry couldn't help but feel self-conscious under the spotlight of public scrutiny. It was clear that he had become big news in the wizarding world, and his trial had captured everyone's interest. He knew he needed to take the initiative and present himself in the best possible light. If he could show that he was the hero people hoped him to be, especially with Voldemort's recent return, perhaps the atmosphere would become more favorable. Maybe Fudge could even be put on the defensive for once.
Of course, this depended on Harry devising a plan to save himself and inspire the masses. Unfortunately, this battle wouldn't involve a broomstick chase or a showdown with a dragon or a basilisk. This time, he had to win with words. He wished Hermione were here; she had a way with words.
Exiting the Ministry's atrium, they proceeded down a long hall. Harry was lost in his thoughts, barely paying attention to his surroundings. Eventually, he noticed a tall, imposing man watching them intently as they approached the courtroom. As they drew nearer, the man approached them, wearing a kindly expression.
"Ah, Mr. Potter, I presume."
Harry wasn't surprised that the man seemed to know him, given his notoriety. There were always people who wanted something from him or had their own agendas.
Deciding to keep his distance for now, Harry responded cautiously, "Yes? Can I help you?"
The man chuckled. "No, young Harry, I just thought I would say hello before you enter the courtroom."
Harry glanced past the man at the open courtroom door, which seemed to mock him, beckoning him toward his destiny and his fears.
Shaking off his dark thoughts, Harry refocused on the stranger. "I'm sorry, sir, but do I know you?"
"No, though I'm aware of you." At Harry's grimace, the man chuckled once more and patted him on the shoulder. "I suppose that's not surprising, is it? Just remember, you have people on your side—people who will fight for you. Don't let them intimidate you or try to isolate you."
Harry nodded, contemplating the man's words. He knew he had good friends—Hermione and Ron had always been there for him, and Dumbledore and the professors had protected him. He had grown closer to Sirius in a short time, and he had to believe he would get through this day and emerge stronger.
"Thank you, Mr.…."
"Oh, don't worry about me, Harry," the man replied
Gathering his resolve, Harry and his escort reached the entrance to the courtroom and paused before the open door.
"Harry," Mr. Weasley began, "you know we're all behind you. Don't worry about a thing."
Harry thanked Mr. Weasley for his support and took a deep breath before entering the courtroom.
Inside, he found himself in a semi-circular room, roughly the size of the Gryffindor common room at Hogwarts. Benches lined the walls on three sides, rising about ten levels high. Behind him, a raised gallery overlooked the entrance to the courtroom. The benches were filled with members of the Wizengamot, mostly stern-looking elderly witches and wizards. It was challenging to gauge their mood, whether due to indifference, disapproval of Fudge's actions, or enmity toward Harry himself.
Harry scanned the gallery above the entrance and noticed a packed crowd of onlookers. Among them, Lucius Malfoy's imposing presence stood out, with an arrogant smirk on his face. Determined to avoid the father of his rival, Harry allowed his gaze to wander, and he locked eyes with the man he had met outside the courtroom earlier. The man gave him a cheerful salute, and Harry grinned in response before turning his attention back to Minister Fudge.
"Please take a seat, Mr. Potter," Fudge said with thinly veiled contempt, pointing to a hard wooden chair in the center of the room, facing away from the entrance. "We are ready to begin these proceedings."
Suddenly concerned, Harry scanned the room for Professor Dumbledore, his Headmaster. Not seeing him among the members of the Wizengamot, he looked back at the Minister.
"Excuse me, Minister, I thought Headmaster Dumbledore was supposed to be here."
Fudge's face twisted into a cruel, triumphant smile. "It seems your Headmaster couldn't be bothered to attend the trial of a mere student. In cases of contempt shown to the Wizengamot, we shall proceed in his absence."
Shivers ran down Harry's spine at the malicious satisfaction in Fudge's voice. He glanced back at the courtroom door and then at the man he had met earlier, who offered him a reassuring look. Taking a deep breath, Harry gathered his courage and sat in the hard chair, his back straight and his head held high. He would not allow Fudge to intimidate him.
Fudge's response was a feral grin, and suddenly, restraints shot out of the chair's arms and legs, binding Harry and rendering him immobile. The Minister smirked triumphantly as he called the courtroom to order.
"Order in the courtroom!" Fudge shouted, banging his gavel on the desk in front of him.
As the room quieted, he scanned the attendees. "I call this trial of underage magic use for one Harry James Potter into session. The defendant is accused of using magic in the presence of Muggles, in violation of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. The truth of this charge, as well as the lies of said defendant, shall be revealed and acted upon accordingly."
"Is that so, Cornelius?" a voice interrupted from behind Harry.
Harry strained to twist his head to see Dumbledore making a dramatic entrance, a twinkle in his eyes as he looked at Harry. The elderly wizard was impeccably dressed, from his long gray robes to his neatly tied white beard. Despite his twinkling eyes, Harry could sense Dumbledore's displeasure—he exuded power, and his gaze on the Wizengamot members was stern and disapproving.
Approaching Harry's chair, Dumbledore stood by his side and continued, "I assume that the location and timing of this hearing were changed without prior notice. If one were not familiar with the facts, Minister, they might think it was done intentionally to deprive Mr. Potter of his right to defend himself before this esteemed body."
Fudge's eyes tightened briefly before he sniffed dismissively. "The Wizengamot cannot be held responsible if you can't keep up with our proceedings, Dumbledore."
Raising an eyebrow, Dumbledore's gaze bore into Fudge, making the Minister squirm in his seat. "It appears the memo may have been lost, Minister. But we wouldn't want you to preside over a miscarriage of justice concerning one of your most famous subjects."
Fudge, now slightly pale, looked around at the Wizengamot members who had absorbed the implications of Dumbledore's words, and the room fell into an uncomfortable silence.
"Be that as it may," Dumbledore continued, "regardless of my opinion of this forum, we are here now. I suggest we conclude this matter as swiftly as possible so we can address more pressing issues. I will be representing Mr. Potter, and I yield the floor to you, Minister."
Inside, Harry felt elated by Dumbledore's implied rebuke of the Minister, though he tried not to show it on his face. Harry wasn't well-versed in wizarding law, but he understood that he was being singled out by a Minister who refused to see reason. What Dumbledore had said was not only fair but also just in the context of any wizarding law Harry was aware of.
"Very well," Fudge responded.
The Minister signaled for the prosecution to begin their case, with their star witness being Mafalda Hopkirk, the assistant whom Harry had communicated with twice before. Harry listened as Fudge prompted her to build the case against him, asking questions to extract what he considered crucial facts. He observed the triumphant glances Fudge directed at him throughout the proceedings. Unlike Ms. Hopkirk, who seemed to have nothing personal against Harry or Dumbledore, Fudge was clearly driven by his agenda. She presented the facts of the case objectively, embellishing little and elaborating only when prompted. The facts were straightforward: on August 2, the Ministry's tracking devices detected a surge of magic traced to Harry's wand. Ms. Hopkirk initiated standard procedures and sent a letter to Harry's residence, notifying him of his expulsion from Hogwarts and the Ministry's actions. However, the order was revoked when Dumbledore intervened and convinced them to hold a hearing.
Fudge seized on this piece of information with a smirk, causing Harry to squirm in his chair.
"Ms. Hopkirk," Fudge began after she finished her report, "I assume this isn't the first time Mr. Potter has used magic improperly?"
"No, Minister. Mr. Potter has been detected using magic on two separate occasions outside of Hogwarts since he began attending."
"There!" Fudge exclaimed. "The Wizengamot can see the pattern of disobedience and contempt for the laws of our world—contempt that puts us all in danger of being exposed to Muggles! Can anyone speak in Mr. Potter's defense?"
"Minister, I believe Mr. Potter should be allowed to respond in his defense."
Fudge fixed his beady eyes on Dumbledore, his face contorted into a sneer. "Ah, yes—the crux of the matter. The esteemed Headmaster of our prestigious school, who has shown favoritism toward Mr. Potter. Tell the Wizengamot, Headmaster, why you felt the need to intervene on Mr. Potter's behalf. Has Mr. Potter received special treatment at Hogwarts?"
The insinuation was not lost on the members of the Wizengamot, and many looked at Harry with dark, contemplative expressions. Fudge had successfully shifted the focus onto Harry's relationship with Dumbledore, rather than the alleged crime. Dumbledore chose to ignore the insinuation.
"Tell me, Ms. Hopkirk," Dumbledore said, ignoring Fudge's provocation, "how is it that a letter was dispatched to Mr. Potter's residence so quickly? Standard procedure dictates that a first offense results in an immediate warning letter, but a second offense requires a review before any response is taken."
"Dumbledore, I hardly think this is—" Fudge began, but Dumbledore cut him off.
"But it is relevant, Minister. After all, the reason for this forum is to ensure that Mr. Potter is treated the same as any other witch or wizard, subject to the appropriate actions according to our laws. Ms. Hopkirk, you will answer the question."
Her eyes darted between the Minister and Dumbledore, who stared at her with a stern expression. Sighing, she finally looked at Dumbledore and responded, "Minister Fudge sent a memo instructing prompt action if Mr. Potter were detected using magic."
"Only Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, sir," she replied.
Dumbledore's gaze shifted back to the uncomfortable Minister, who seemed to have lost some of his composure.
"In response to your previous question, Minister," Dumbledore continued, "I have always acted in the best interests of those under my charge, and I will continue to do so to ensure the safety and well-being of my students. I would do the same for anyone who I feel is being unfairly singled out. I had assumed you already understood this, Minister."
Although Harry didn't fully grasp the reference, he could see the tightening of the Minister's eyes and the discomfort on his face.
"Really, Dumbledore," Fudge snarled, "you should refrain from involving yourself in lost causes like this. It may eventually tarnish your reputation. Regardless of anything I or anyone else in the government has done in this case, the facts are relevant and irrefutable, as is the punishment."
"Mr. Potter deserves the opportunity to respond to his accusers, not only as a matter of his rights but also due to the gravity of the consequences. Minister, do you believe he should be summarily convicted without the chance to explain himself, or do you wish to perpetuate past mistakes by denying his rights?"
Fudge was practically snarling by this point. "Fine, Dumbledore. Make your case! How does Mr. Potter intend to defend his actions?"
"Harry, would you like to respond?"
Feeling the weight of the Wizengamot's gaze on him, Harry summoned his courage and looked directly at Fudge. "We were attacked by Dementors, sir."
"Dementors, Minister!" Dumbledore's voice boomed. "Mr. Potter was attacked by Dementors on the morning in question, which explains his use of magic."
"Dementors?" Fudge screeched. "Are you suggesting that a fourth-year student could cast a Patronus charm to repel Dementors? Preposterous!"
Although he had been quietly watching Dumbledore defend him, Harry suddenly realized that Fudge didn't want him to be acquitted. The realization was stark and unsettling.
"I've been able to cast the Patronus charm since my third year!" Harry retorted.
"The Patronus charm is a post-NEWT level spell that few in our society can successfully cast. Do you expect us to believe that you, a fifteen-year-old, can do what most adults cannot?"
"Give me my wand and let me show you," Harry snapped.
Fudge's eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, a short, pudgy woman in dark Wizengamot robes and a shade of lurid pink under them raised her hand. "Hem, hem," she cleared her throat before speaking. "I believe the point of whether Mr. Potter can cast a Patronus is academic. After all, the Dementors are under the control of the Ministry and cannot have been in Little Whinging."
Harry immediately disliked the woman; she spoke in a sugary-sweet voice and affected a simpering smirk. It was clear that her demeanor was an act.
"Well, there you are, Mr. Potter. What do you say to that?" Fudge asked triumphantly.
"The Dementors were there—I saw them. Mrs. Figg and my cousin Dudley were there as well."
"Muggles," Fudge spat with disdain. "Convenient, isn't it, that your only witnesses cannot actually see Dementors?"
"The effects of a Dementor's presence are well known, Minister," Dumbledore replied. "Simple questioning of the witnesses will establish whether they were affected."
"Rubbish! Your proposed questioning would be nothing more than circumstantial at best. We have proof through the Ministry recording devices of Mr. Potter's use of magic and nothing but his word about the existence of these Dementors to prove otherwise. Why would Dementors be after you, Potter, so far from Azkaban?"
"I don't know, Minister," Harry replied, his voice filled with defiance and contempt for the small-minded man. "I've been attacked by Dementors before, as you well know when you stationed them at Hogwarts in my third year. Maybe they somehow escaped, or maybe one of Voldemort's supporters sent them after me."
A feral grin spread across Fudge's face, and a wave of gasps and whispers swept through the chamber at the mention of Voldemort's name. "Ah, so we finally get to the heart of the matter—Mr. Potter's insistence on the return of the Dark Lord. Tell me, Potter, why are you so insistent on claiming the impossible? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has been dead for fourteen years, after all. You were there, weren't you?"
Harry sat up as straight as his restraints allowed and glared at Fudge. "I'm telling you he's back because it's the truth."
"I'm telling you it's impossible!" Fudge shouted. "Do you think you're some kind of deity who can resurrect a man who has been dead for over a decade?"
"I didn't bring him back, Minister. He was brought back by Peter Pettigrew, using a dark ritual."
"Peter Pettigrew! Another man dead since you were a child! Are there no end to your lies?"
"Minister, it's well-known that there are ways to tether one's existence to this world and ways to bring someone back from the dead. I've never believed Voldemort was truly gone, and given his fear of death and self-interest, my belief is not unfounded. He's out there, and now he has returned. It would be foolish not to act to protect our society."
Fudge glared at Dumbledore in disgust. "And yet, you have no proof of these claims except the word of a young, attention-seeking upstart who seems intent on causing panic."
"The proof exists if you would only look at it!"
"Enough!" Fudge shouted. "I won't listen to the lies of this young man or your attempt to spread panic in these halls. Mr. Potter is a spoiled, indulged brat who has been living off his past glory for far too long. I intend to put an end to his lies for the good of our society."
Leaning back in his chair, Fudge smirked at Dumbledore. "I have another theory about Mr. Potter's experiences. He's trying to sow fear and discord because his star has faded since his return to our world. He wants to recreate his past celebrity by invoking the name of our greatest enemy. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead, Mr. Potter. You won't receive any more adulation for an accident that happened when you were a baby!"
"If he's truly dead and gone, then why are you afraid to speak his name?" Dumbledore asked, his question echoing through the chamber.
The members of the Wizengamot reacted differently, with some appearing intrigued and others affronted that Dumbledore had dared to speak the dark lord's name.
"Surely the Minister can't be afraid of a dead man," Dumbledore continued, causing a swell of noise and even some snickers among the Wizengamot members. He had scored a point.
Fudge sputtered, trying to regain control of the situation. "It doesn't matter what you call him, Dumbledore. The man is dead, and regardless of what Mr. Potter thinks he saw, he cannot have seen the Dark Lord. He's obviously lying."
"I'll take Veritaserum!" Harry yelled desperately.
"What?" Fudge looked taken aback.
"Give me Veritaserum, and it will prove I'm telling the truth!"
"Veritaserum is a valuable substance," Umbridge chimed in with her sickeningly sweet voice, while Fudge sputtered again. "We don't use it on anyone with a random claim. Your case doesn't qualify, Mr. Potter."
"On the contrary—" Dumbledore began, but was interrupted by Fudge's furious outburst.
"Bollocks! We've had enough of this. It's time for the Wizengamot to deliberate and determine the outcome of this hearing."
Harry was uncertain how it would play out, but he had seen Dumbledore score significant points. However, he wasn't prepared for what happened next.
By this time, Jean-Sebastian had heard enough. The British Minister was clearly intent on pushing his own agenda and was not interested in the truth. It was time to repay Sirius's trust and change the course of events.
"Enough, Minister!"
Ignoring the astonished look on Fudge's face, Jean-Sebastian rose from his chair and vaulted over the barrier separating the spectator gallery from the rest of the chamber. He quickly made his way down to the floor and approached the chair where Harry was still sitting, looking shocked and hopeful.
Once he reached Harry, Jean-Sebastian scowled at the chair that had held the young wizard captive and flicked his wrist to release the restraints. Harry stared at him, his expression a mixture of shock and gratitude.
"Stand up and face your accusers, Harry. That chair was designed to strip a person of their free will and dignity. You will not spend any more time in it."
Jean-Sebastian then turned to address the stunned onlookers, making his intentions clear.
"This hearing is a farce, Minister. I will not allow you to continue with this character assassination, this kangaroo court. You have no interest in the truth of Harry's actions; you only want to push your agenda of denial and your destructive Pureblood bigotry. Harry will not be sacrificed for your political gain!"
Fudge, recovering from his initial shock, demanded an explanation. "Ambassador! What is the meaning of this?"
Glaring at the Minister, Jean-Sebastian helped Harry to his feet. "This hearing is a mockery of justice. I represent the ICW."
Fudge was momentarily taken aback. "And what authority does the ICW have in England?"
Jean-Sebastian took a moment to emphasize the weight of his words. "The ICW cannot intervene directly in an internal British matter, but Mr. Potter is of international interest. He is commended by the ICW for his actions, including surviving an attack by one of the most feared dark lords and his performance in the Tri-Wizard Tournament."
Fudge attempted to maintain his composure but was clearly shaken by this revelation. "The ICW's commendation means nothing here. Mr. Potter is a British citizen."
"Indeed," Jean-Sebastian acknowledged, "but his actions have earned him notoriety and fame beyond Britain's borders. The ICW has recognized him as a person of interest to the entire wizarding world."
"The ICW has no legal authority in Britain," Fudge retorted.
"True," Jean-Sebastian conceded, "but international reputation and relationships matter. To disregard the ICW's commendation would not be wise, even for the most powerful among you."
"The ICW's commendation is meaningless in a British court," Fudge insisted, though his confidence was waning.
"Perhaps not legally," Jean-Sebastian agreed, "but politically and diplomatically, it carries weight. And it shows that the world beyond your borders is watching."
Fudge scowled, but the members of the Wizengamot seemed to be considering the implications of the ICW's support for Harry Potter.
Jean-Sebastian continued, addressing Harry, "Mr. Potter, it appears that your adventures have gained you much attention and fame beyond the boundaries of England. Offers of refuge have come from many countries, including my own."
Harry, still slightly bewildered by the turn of events, exchanged a glance with his benefactor. He knew he needed to learn more about the wider wizarding world, and it seemed that Jean-Sebastian was willing to help. For now, he faced his accusers, hoping that the support he had received would tip the scales in his favor.
The Minister's glare was now directed fiercely at the accused, as if he were attempting to devise a way to salvage his case. Jean-Sebastian, on the other hand, maintained his steely gaze, allowing his dislike and disgust to shine through his eyes. Fudge's narrowed eyes indicated that Jean-Sebastian had certainly made himself an implacable enemy on this day. However, he firmly believed it was worth it, given everything he had heard about Harry and the Dark Lord's ominous interest in the young wizard. Harry Potter had the potential to be a pivotal figure in the fight against Voldemort, and Jean-Sebastian was willing to support him.
"The ICW is irrelevant!" Fudge retorted one last time, making a final attempt to rescue his case. "Mr. Potter has violated the law, international law, I might add. Our duty as a society is to uphold the secrecy of our world."
"Then instruct your Aurors to prepare the Veritaserum," Jean-Sebastian replied calmly. "Mr. Potter has already agreed to its use."
It was the short, pudgy woman in pink who interjected, her voice sugary-sweet but tinged with shrillness. "The use of Veritaserum—"
"—is sanctioned in all trials to determine the truthfulness of the accused, as long as the Wizengamot approves. Surely, as a member of this esteemed body, you would understand the laws of your own country," Jean-Sebastian interrupted her.
She bristled visibly at his words, which piqued Jean-Sebastian's curiosity about her unwavering support for Fudge in this matter. It was a detail he intended to investigate further.
"The matter is clear!" she insisted, her voice now more shrill than sweet. "The statute was violated, and Mr. Potter has confessed."
Dumbledore, who had been mostly quiet during the proceedings, finally spoke up. "The term 'reasonable' is present in the statute for a reason. Defending oneself against Dementors would be considered a reasonable action by any wizard or witch. Veritaserum can verify the presence of Dementors on that morning."
Fudge, undeterred, retorted, "Unless he's delusional!"
"Then the testimonies of the witnesses will also be necessary," Dumbledore replied with a hint of sarcasm. "Unless you believe that they were all suffering from a shared delusion."
The sarcasm did not escape the notice of the Wizengamot members, and Jean-Sebastian sensed that the tide of opinion was turning against the Minister.
"Minister," Jean-Sebastian began, addressing Fudge directly, "from what I have witnessed today, it appears that you may harbor a personal vendetta against this young man, although I am at a loss to understand why. My brief conversation with Mr. Potter leaves me with the impression of a decent, intelligent young man who has faced adversity through no fault of his own. As a hero to the British wizarding people, do you truly wish to be remembered as the Minister who drove him away from England? How could your citizens turn on Harry so quickly? Have they even been given the truth about him?"
This statement captured everyone's attention, including Fudge's, and it seemed to have a profound impact. Jean-Sebastian knew that Fudge could have painted Harry in any light he pleased, as long as he controlled the flow of information and maintained public opinion on his side. But now, with his arguments in tatters and his personal bias against Harry laid bare for all to see, it would be political suicide to continue pushing for conviction and punishment.
Jean-Sebastian's grin was almost predatory. "Ah, I see I have your attention now. Regardless, I will not allow the exploitation of young Harry Potter to continue any longer."
The looks of confusion and unease on some faces bordered on comical if Jean-Sebastian weren't so deadly serious.
"Because the English wizarding world has shown itself incapable of ensuring Mr. Potter's well-being, I regret that I must take steps to guarantee he is never subjected to such treatment again. I have recently become aware of a document signed by my father and Mr. Potter's grandfather over fifty years ago—a document that allows me to be of assistance to the young man. With the agreement of his guardian, I am invoking an ancient marriage contract between Mr. Potter and my eldest daughter. As I say it, so it shall be!"
Jean-Sebastian's proclamation hung in the air, leaving the Wizengamot members and Fudge himself in shock. The unexpected twist in the proceedings had taken everyone by surprise, and the ramifications of this bold move were yet to be fully understood.
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