A/N: It's been a while, I know. I'm so sorry. Have a longer chapter to try and make up for it.
Honestly? I sort of drifted away from HP for a while...
NOTE: I do borrow quite a bit of text from OotP in this chapter. Some is modified, some is verbatim. It is broken up with new bits and insights though.
Chapter Eighteen: A Potter in the Politician's Court
The next day passed in an anxious blur, and it felt like no time at all before Harry wandered into the kitchen at a ludicrous hour of the morning of the twelfth of August. To his surprise he was not the only one awake. He forced himself to eat a bit more breakfast than he wanted to and was both pleased and scared when Arthur said it was time to go. They would be early, very early, but it was easier to hang around at the Ministry with someone who knew the ins and outs.
The Gelfling were lined up in the hallway leading to the front door. They all gave him smiles, nods and waves to wish him well and he was cheered immensely by this show of support. He left the gloomy building with a smile.
The visitor's entry to the Ministry was a surprise. Mr Weasley's tiny office was also a surprise, but in a bad way. The note about the time and location change of his trial was the biggest surprise, and the worst one yet. The race from the tiny office was not fun and only served to rattle his already jangled nerves further. They arrived just in time and Harry's stomach dropped when Arthur told him he'd have to go in alone.
But Rian had escaped the castle alone. He'd faced his clan's leader alone. Brea had sought out the truth alone. Seladon had gone to negotiate alone. He could face this alone. He squared his shoulders and walked inside, trying not to let the size of the room and the amount of people intimidate him. He'd faced down a dragon with a bigger crowd so this should be easy. It was all a matter of perspective, he realised.
Harry grabbed the heavy iron handle and opened the door enough to slip inside.
Harry barely managed to stifle a gasp at the large dungeon he had entered. It was horribly familiar, being the very room Harry had visited in Dumbledore's Pensieve, where he had seen people sentenced to life in Azkaban.
It looked virtually the same with walls of dark stone, dimly lit by torches. The only difference was the number of people and their identities. The highest benches ahead of him were filled with shadowy figures, while all of the other benches were left empty. The number of empty seats in the room somehow made it feel more intimidating than it would be if the dungeon had been filled. The low voices added to the creepy atmosphere, but they abruptly cut off as the door swung closed behind Harry.
"You're late," said a cold male voice across the courtroom.
Harry's first instinct was to apologise, but all of the shared memories he'd gained told him it would be a bad idea. It would cement his position as a weaker one and would likely set the tone for the rest of the trial. He took a breath and tried to channel Seladon.
"I came straight here the moment I heard of the change of time and venue. I did not hear of the change until after eight," he said somewhat stiffly.
"That is not the Wizengamot's fault," said the voice. "An owl was sent to you this morning. Take your seat."
Harry's gaze fell on a chair in the middle of the room. The arms were covered in chains, which he knew could spring to life and bind the chair's occupant thoroughly. "Then I feel I must apologise on behalf of whoever sent the owl, for I did not receive it. They were obviously unable to factor in the time it would take for an owl to reach me, then for me to respond, then be able to make it through the Ministry in a timely manner due to foot traffic and lifts," he said, his voice even, but still loud enough to be heard over his echoing footsteps as he walked to the chair.
He sat down gingerly, further in the chair than he wanted to, but sitting on the edge would show him in a weak position as well. He fervently thanked the Gelfling as the chains clinked but made no move to bind him.
"Insolence!" someone hissed.
"He has a point, especially if the owl never even reached him as he says. How did you find out about the change then?" asked a female voice.
"I was with Mr Weasley in his office when someone rushed in. They said they'd just sent an owl off, but it was lucky we were there. It was this nice person that informed us. It was eight oh five then and Mr Weasley promptly escorted me here, as I didn't know the way, as fast as possible," Harry answered, discreetly trying to find who had spoken.
Anyone willing to listen and not judge first should be identified and spoken to directly, if possible.
It was hard though, as there were about fifty figures on the benches above, all wearing plum-coloured robes with an elaborately worked silver 'W' on the left-hand side of the chest. All of them were staring down their noses at him, with varying expressions, none of which seemed outright positive for him.
In the very middle of the front row sat Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic. Unlike the summer before his third year, Fudge was not smiling at him. On his left was a witch with short grey hair and a monocle. On his right was another witch, but she was sitting so far back on the bench that her face was in shadow.
"Very well," said Fudge. "The accused being present - finally, despite excuses - let us begin. Are you ready?" he called down the row.
"Yes, sir," said an eager voice Harry knew. At the very end of the front bench sat Percy Weasley. Harry looked at Percy, but the older boy was resolutely ignoring him, his eyes fixed on his parchment and a quill poised in his hand.
"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," said Fudge in a ringing voice, and Percy began taking notes at once, "into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.
Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatious Weasley -"
"Witness for the defence, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," said a quiet voice from behind Harry, who forced himself to turn his head slowly.
How had he ever learned anything half so well without dreamfasting? A bit of time, a bit of concentration and it resulted in almost effortless recall, with feelings and experience behind it to enforce everything. How much of a mess would he have inadvertently made otherwise? These thoughts passed quickly through his mind as he watched Dumbledore stride serenely across the room in long robes of midnight blue.
He drew level with Harry and looked up at Fudge through the half-moon spectacles that rested halfway down his very crooked nose, his expression perfectly calm as though he were in a nice park and not a dungeon.
Mutters broke out with all eyes now on Dumbledore. Some looked annoyed, others slightly frustrated; two elderly witches in the back row, however, raised their hands and waved in welcome.
Emotions surged through Harry with the appearance of the elderly wizard. At first he felt hopefully happy, secure in the knowledge that Dumbledore would be able to sort this out for him. That bubble of hope and happiness abruptly popped when he realised Dumbledore would not look at him. He was not, in fact, paying Harry the slightest bit of attention.
Wariness, anger and hurt replaced the popped bubble. Dumbledore was likely here to help him in any way he could, yes, but Harry felt it was a bit late. If the old man wanted to help, why hadn't he done anything to prepare Harry for the trial in the first place? Or asked anyone else to do it if he was too busy? The only ones that had done anything at all to help him prepare were the Gelfling and they'd known Harry the least compared to the other regulars dwelling in Grimmauld Place.
Harry resolved to be just as wary of the headmaster as he was of the Wizengamot. Just thinking such a thing hurt, but he'd learned a lot about characters and acting from the dreamfasting as well court procedures.
"Ah," said Fudge, who looked thoroughly disconcerted. "Dumbledore. Yes. You - er - got our - er - message that the time and - er - place of the hearing had been changed, then?"
"I must have missed it," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done."
As Fudge bumbled on and chairs were discussed, Harry frowned internally. He'd heard that Dumbledore would help him, but he didn't recall anyone telling him that Dumbledore would be here at the trial with him and certainly not as a witness for the defence! This was the sort of information he felt was a need-to-know thing and yet everyone had neglected to inform him. It had obviously been arranged beforehand if Dumbledore being sent a message about the time and place change was any indicator.
The teenager got the distinct feeling that someone, perhaps Fudge, had done the switch to keep either Harry, Dumbledore or both from appearing. Could they issue a ruling if he wasn't present?
"Well then. The charges. Yes," Fudge said, pulling out a piece of parchment from the pile before him. He took a deep breath, and read out, "The charges against the accused are as follows:
"That he did knowingly, deliberately and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, on the second of August at twenty-three minutes past nine, which constitutes an offence under Paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy.
"You are Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?" Fudge said, glaring at Harry over the top of his parchment.
"Yes, sir," Harry said politely.
"You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?"
One rule of the court he had learned: never answer with a definitive yes or no straight away unless the question was perfectly clear-cut with no layers, as the first one had been. "Three years ago I received a warning from the Ministry for magic I did not perform."
"And - what? What are you on about?" Fudge said, blinking at the boy through another glare. "You are the only magical being living in that residence and you're saying the Ministry sent a warning to the wrong magical being at that residence?" he asked, voice going higher in his incredulity. Several court members sniggered and muttered, eyeing the accused as though he'd sprouted extra body parts between blinks.
"If someone had come and checked that night, they'd know my wand was clean of using the spell in question. I simply got the blame with no investigation into the matter whatsoever. I was very unhappy with the lack of professionalism shown. There was a house-elf that, I guess you could say illegally entered the premises? I know it sounds a little out there, but that house-elf performed the magic. I suppose it's far too late now."
"Ah, there we go. We'll leave that there for now and move on," Fudge said with a satisfied grin. "Yet you, and no other, conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?"
"Strictly for self-defence, yes."
"Knowing that you were in an area full of Muggles?"
"Out of sight of all except my cousin, who is aware of magic as a close relation."
"Fully aware that you - eh?" Fudge squawked, partly talking over Harry until he realised what had been said.
The witch with the monocle spoke up in a booming voice. "You produced a fully-fledged Patronus?"
Harry looked directly at her and nodded slightly. "Yes, ma'am."
"A corporeal Patronus?"
"I'm...afraid I'm unfamiliar with that term, ma'am," he replied.
She nodded back. "Your Patronus had a clearly defined form? I mean to say, it was more than vapour or smoke?"
"My Patronus has had a clearly defined form since the end of my third year at Hogwarts, ma'am. A number of people witnessed it during a sabotage attempt at a Quidditch match as well."
Madam Bones looked thoughtful. "You learned this at school?"
"Not in class, ma'am. I specifically requested extra lessons from Professor Lupin after a disastrous Quidditch match where the Dementors converged on me in the air, and I was defenceless –"
"Impressive," she said, staring down at him, "a true Patronus at his age...very impressive indeed."
Some of the wizards and witches around her were muttering again; a few nodded, but others were frowning and shaking their heads.
"It's not a question of how impressive the magic was," said Fudge in a testy voice, "in fact, the more impressive the worse it is, I would have thought, given that the boy did it in plain view of a Muggle!"
Those who had been frowning now murmured in agreement, but it was the sight of Percy's sanctimonious little nod that goaded Harry into speaking up. He took a deep breath first, beating back the flames of anger that tried to roar forth.
"A Muggle that already knew about magic as he is my cousin," he said loudly, before anyone could interrupt him again. "And, again, only done so in self-defence. I feel I must ask why my cousin is not here as a witness. Is there to be no investigation yet again?" he added, sounding thoroughly disappointed.
"Self-defence?" said Madam Bones after a moment, her thick eyebrows rising until her monocle looked in danger of falling out. "What do you mean, boy? Self-defence against what?"
"Against the only thing the Patronus charm is meant for," Harry replied evenly. He was getting increasingly frustrated at the whole debacle. It took people ages to listen to anything he'd been saying. They were even slower to speak on it and he was not going to mention their terrible deductive skills.
He used the Patronus charm. He did so in self-defence. It honestly wasn't that hard to work out, was it? Had magical society always been this way or was he just more aware of it now thanks to the Gelfling?
"Are you speaking of Dementors?" she asked.
"Two of them came straight at me and my cousin, and I wasn't going to sit back and do nothing," Harry stated.
"Ah," said Fudge again, smirking unpleasantly as he looked around at the Wizengamot, as though inviting them to share the joke. "Yes. Yes, I thought we'd be hearing something like this."
"Dementors in Little Whinging?" Madam Bones said, in a tone of great surprise. "I don't understand -"
"Don't you, Amelia?" said Fudge, still smirking. "Let me explain. He's been thinking it through and decided Dementors would make a very nice little cover story, very nice indeed. Muggles can't see Dementors, can they, boy? Highly convenient, highly convenient… so it's just your word and no witnesses…"
Harry held back a sigh. "I was unaware Dementors were invisible to Muggles until my cousin ran right at one while trying to get away. And why are you discounting my cousin as a witness? Because he's a Muggle? I'll remind you again that he knows about magic and could easily describe what he felt, even if he saw nothing," he said loudly enough to be heard over another outbreak of muttering from the court.
"Enough, enough!" said Fudge, with a very supercilious look on his face. "I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm sure would be a very well-rehearsed story -"
Dumbledore cleared his throat, causing the Wizengamot to fall silent again. "We do, in fact, have a witness to the presence of Dementors in the alleyway Mr Potter was in," he said, "other than Dudley Dursley, I mean."
Fudge's plump face seemed to slacken, as though somebody had let air out of it. He stared down at Dumbledore for a moment or two, then, with the appearance of a man pulling himself together, said, "We haven't got time to listen to more tarradiddles, I'm afraid, Dumbledore. I want this dealt with quickly -"
"I may be wrong," said Dumbledore pleasantly, "but I am sure that under the Wizengamot Charter of Rights, the accused has the right to present witnesses for his or her case? Isn't that the policy of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Madam Bones?" he continued, addressing the witch in the monocle.
"True," she answered. "Perfectly true."
Harry immediately raised his hand at this, making the chains clink faintly at the sudden movement. "Can I request a transfer of who is in charge here? I feel very taken advantage of if Minister Fudge will so casually disregard the rules at his own leisure. Madam Bones, could you possibly take over?" he asked, his somewhat loud voice containing a pleading, vulnerable note.
The muttering returned swiftly, a mixture of angry, fearful, and thoughtful tones.
"What? The absolute nerve and audacity!" the Minister spluttered. "Now, who is this person? Where are they?"
"I brought her with me," said Dumbledore. "She's just outside the door. Should I –?"
"No – Weasley, you go," Fudge barked at Percy, who got up at once and ran down the stone steps, hurrying past Dumbledore and Harry without so much as a glance.
A moment later he returned, followed by Mrs Figg. She looked scared and more batty than ever, having not even changed out of her carpet slippers. As a witness her appearance and demeanour left much to be desired, and Harry had to wonder how helpful she would truly be to his case. Was this really Dumbledore's best defence for him? Once more he felt grateful for the Gelfling that had prepared him to defend himself.
Dumbledore stood up and gave Mrs Figg his chair, conjuring a second one for himself.
Fudge proceeded to ask her questions, which she answered in a quavery voice. The revelation that there were no witches or wizards living in Little Whinging due to his situation was startling. If they were monitoring that, why had they been unable to pick up Dobby using magic instead of him? That warning still rankled.
With all of the experiences of several Gelfling behind him, the magical government was starting to look like a disorganised mess, crumbling under incompetence from within. It had certainly soured his view of the Ministry of Magic, no matter how grand it appeared at first glance.
The fact that the Minister for Magic did not even know if Squibs could see Dementors or not did not speak well of him, and Harry's tiny respect for him disappeared in an instant.
Fudge and Amelia Bones began asking Mrs Figg for her story and Harry inwardly cringed at her answers. She may be a witness, sure, but she was doing a terrible job of it. What was Dumbledore playing at? Did he not prepare Mrs Figg much like he hadn't prepared Harry? The court was chewing her up and spitting her out and he couldn't blame them, even as he felt sorry for the poor woman.
Her testimony improved near the end, but Harry held little hope for her words bearing much weight as she was dismissed from the room.
"Not a very convincing witness," said Fudge loftily, proving Harry's fears right.
Madam Bones spoke up, giving him a glimmer of hope, though Fudge was quick to dash it before being interrupted by Dumbledore.
"Oh, I don't think any of us believe the Dementors were there by coincidence," the elderly wizard said lightly.
The witch sitting to the right of Fudge, with her face in shadow, moved slightly but everyone else was quite still and silent. Harry mentally marked it to discuss with the Gelfling later.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Fudge asked icily.
"It means that I think they were ordered there," said Dumbledore.
Fudge and Dumbledore went back and forth on the matter, with Dumbledore's logic prevailing in Harry's mind. The complete silence that followed only served to drive the point home. The witch to the right of Fudge leaned forwards so that Harry saw her for the first time.
He thought she looked just like a large, pale toad. She was rather squat with a broad, flabby face, as little neck as Uncle Vernon, and a very wide, slack mouth. Her eyes were large, round and slightly bulging. Even the little black velvet bow perched on top of her short curly hair put him in mind of a large fly she was about to catch on a long sticky tongue.
"The Chair recognises Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister," said Fudge.
Now it seemed that Fudge had remembered the proper rules and protocol for the courtroom. Funny how he observed such things for his own side, showing that he clearly knew them and was flouting them in regard to the teenager. It was a rude power play that Harry did not appreciate in the slightest. The simple fact that no one else seemed to notice, or be bothered to call Fudge out, irked him greatly.
The witch spoke in a fluttery, girlish, high-pitched voice that took Harry aback; he had been expecting a croak.
"I'm sure I must have misunderstood you, Professor Dumbledore," she said, with a simper that left her big, round eyes as cold as ever. "So silly of me. But it sounded for a teensy moment as though you were suggesting that the Ministry of Magic had ordered an attack on this boy!"
She gave a silvery laugh that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. A few other members of the Wizenmagot laughed with her. It could not have been plainer that not one of them was really amused.
Fudge and Dumbledore went back and forth again, involving Madam Bones at one point. Harry kept out of it, not willing to stick his neck out getting between those two. He refused to be a pawn in their political chess game.
Fudge was now speaking at the top of his voice. "Have you ever bothered to tot up the number of cock-and-bull stories this boy has come out with, Dumbledore, while trying to cover up his flagrant misuse of magic out of school? I suppose you've forgotten that Hover Charm he used three years ago –"
Still unwilling to play their game, Harry raised his hand as if he were in class and looked at Madam Bones, patiently waiting for her to spot him. It only took her a few moments.
"Yes, Mr Potter, you wish to say something?" she said, cutting across Fudge.
"Yes, Madam Bones. The incident regarding that Hover Charm was never investigated, as I mentioned earlier. I'll admit that I do not know how such things are done around here, but a simple check of my wand at the time would've shown that I had not performed the aforementioned charm. It was, in fact, a house-elf that now works at Hogwarts if anyone would like to check," Harry said calmly. He tried his best not to look at the fuming Minister.
"YOU SEE?" roared Fudge, gesturing flamboyantly in Harry's direction. "A house-elf! In a Muggle house! I ask you."
"The house-elf in question is, as Mr Potter stated, currently in the employ of Hogwarts School," said Dumbledore. "I can summon him here in an instant to give evidence if you wish."
"I – not – I haven't got time to listen to house-elves! Anyway, that's not the only – he blew up his aunt, for God's sake!" Fudge shouted, banging his fist on the judge's bench and upsetting a bottle of ink.
Fudge and Dumbledore became embroiled in another round. Harry was not pleased that Fudge had brought up mention of his aunt, especially since Fudge himself had told Harry face-to-face that it was no big deal and he was not going to be punished in any capacity from it, aside from being restricted from Muggle London. The manners he displayed as the judge of this body were, as Seladon might say, utterly appalling.
Dumbledore gave a closing statement and put the ball in Fudge's court. Harry resisted the urge to try and catch his eye, a bit disquieted when he realised the elderly man was thoroughly ignoring him. It made his job easier but on some level it still hurt. This was the man he was meant to rely on completely to get him out of this if the Gelfling hadn't stepped up. So far he had played verbal tennis with Fudge, made him mad, produced a witness of varying credibility, and had not even said one word directly to the teenager he was there to help.
He made sure to keep his head up and observe as the Wizengamot fell into urgent, whispered conversations. His heart thumped loudly against his ribs. Had he said enough to them? Had he come across as mature and level-headed? Hopefully he had made a positive impression, nothing like the lying, attention-seeking brat the Prophet was making him out to be. This wait was horrible though, and he very subtly wiped his sweaty palms off against his trousers.
The whispering finally stopped.
"Those in favour of clearing the witness of all charges?" said Madam Bones's booming voice.
Harry went still. There were hands in the air, many of them…at least three quarters!
"And those in favour of conviction?"
Fudge raised his hand; so did half a dozen others, including the witch on his right. Fudge glanced around at them all, looking as though there was something large stuck in his throat, then lowered his own hand. He took two deep breaths and said, in a voice distorted by suppressed rage, "Very well, very well…cleared of all charges."
"Excellent," said Dumbledore briskly, springing to his feet, pulling out his wand and causing the two chintz armchairs to vanish. "Well, I must be getting along. Good-day to you all."
And without looking once at Harry, he swept from the dungeon.
A/N: Harry might seem OOC in this, but you need to remember how dreamfasting works. It is sharing thoughts, images, feelings in such a way that the recipient can feel as if they were the dreamfaster, going through that experience. It is a raw, intimate thing. Harry, being the recipient of many dreamfasted memories, would have absorbed them all as if he lived them himself. They would fundamentally change his way of thinking and behaviour while he called upon them.
I feel like I've run a dozen marathons trying to get this one chapter out. I sincerely hope the next chapter is a lot easier and quicker, especially since I won't have to rely so heavily on the book for what happens. Needing the book severely limited when I could work on this and I kind of lost motivation for a while. Don't worry though, I have at least rekindled my love of AoR, and so I was determined to get this done.