Chapter 1 – Spellman & Spellman

Harry had been home from Hogwarts for three days when he received the first letter. It had been a nice three days of rest, time spent away from the wizarding world and all its problems, but Harry knew it would never last. The letter came attached to the leg of a particularly large and feisty eagle owl, delivered right to Harry's bedroom window with a tap-tap-tap.

The owl hadn't even stayed for a bit of water and a snack. Instead, it turned right around and flew away, leaving Harry holding the letter it had brought with it. The letter itself was written on thick parchment and sealed with a wax seal bearing the image of an owl. Harry broke the seal and unfurled the parchment to give it a read over.

Delicate, formal handwriting formed the bulk of the message, the words written in fine black ink on the thick, high-quality parchment. Certain parts of the letter were written in flowing, curly cursive.

Mr Harry Potter,

My name is Valerian Spellman and I am the lawmage from Spellman and Spellman Arcane Advocacy representing Hogwarts School in its legal action against Lucius Malfoy. If it is convenient for you I should like to arrange a meeting with you and at least one of your legal guardians at your earliest opportunity. The meeting will be conducted with the presence of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School. If you would reply to this owl with the dates and times most convenient to you we can arrange a meeting. I should note that it is quite important that we see to all of this as early as possible so that we may meet our August date for our preliminary hearing.

Regards,

Valerian Spellman of Spellman and Spellman Arcane Advocacy

A lawmage. Harry groaned.

Harry knew lawmages were few and far between in Britain and Ireland, with most cases put before the Wizengamot not requiring any legal representation at all. Harry hadn't thought Dumbledore would have bothered with one, considering his own knowledge of the law and its inner workings, but perhaps it looked better to have one.

Or perhaps Lucius Malfoy had hired one, so Dumbledore needed one of his own. That made sense to Harry. But the arrival of the letter brought everything into sharp focus, as it meant something was really happening. Something big. It wasn't just a fight at school between Harry and Draco – there was legal action pending. Lawmages had been summoned.

Lawages to whom Harry was expected to lie. Well, that was simply unavoidable, as Dumbledore wanted to keep mention of Voldemort out of it all. Harry saw the point but lying to a lawmage… lying to the Wizengamot… well, that was a big deal.

Although it wasn't as if no one had ever done it before, and if Harry wanted to get any sort of conviction for Lucius Malfoy, he needed the Wizengamot on side. And the Wizengamot was apparently filled with wizards and witches who wanted nothing more than to believe Voldemort was dead and gone, a relic of history and nothing else.

Harry put the letter away in his desk and went downstairs to find his aunt. As she often was, she was in the kitchen with a cup of tea and a book.

"Aunt Petunia?" Harry said as he entered the kitchen.

She looked up from her book, her expression wary.

"Yes, Harry? What is it?"

"Nothing bad," he said, keen to settle her nerves. "It's just that I just got a letter from a lawmage—like a wizard solicitor or barrister, kind of a combination—about the trial. The case, I mean, since there might not be a proper… well, anyway, he said he wants to meet with us ahead of the preliminary hearing. Dumbledore will be there too, but I've got to give them a list of dates and times that are convenient for us. And they want you or Uncle Vernon there as well, so it has to be something that works for us all. So…"

"I'll be going, of course," Petunia said. "Would you like your uncle there? I'm sure he can take the time off work, although God knows what sort of excuse we'd need to use—even an ordinary court date would be… well, that doesn't matter," Petunia said, lips drawn tight.

"I don't need Uncle Vernon to come," Harry said. It was probably better to keep him out of the wizarding world's eye, anyway. Too much attention wouldn't do any of them any good. "He's not very good at lying, anyway."

"Yes, I suppose there is that…" Petunia said. She sighed. "Are you absolutely sure what we're doing is the right thing? Lying to the court? Keeping that—that man's return a secret? Because it doesn't feel like the right thing, Harry. Now, I don't know the first thing about—about wizard politics and all of that, so maybe I just don't understand, but—"

"I'm worried about it too," Harry said, interrupting. But no matter his own misgivings, Harry knew he needed to cut that worry off before it could blossom into something bigger. "It feels like we should be shouting about Voldemort being back. If everyone knows then maybe we could…" Harry shrugged. "But Dumbledore thinks it's a bad idea and he's probably right. We've got no proof, and because Voldemort's not really, er, properly alive at the moment it's going to be hard to get some."

And there were other concerns, too. If too much attention were to brought on Voldemort he might disappear again. Knowing where Voldemort was even if they couldn't get at him was better than not knowing. Or so the thought process went.

"But you said that he was…" Petunia said, although she seemed to flounder at the next bit. Lack of proper context, Harry thought. "That Malfoy man. Isn't he this Lord Voldemort now?"

Harry shook his head.

"Dumbledore said… well, it doesn't work like that. He thinks there are two of them now. And maybe Lucius Malfoy isn't actually…" Harry shrugged. "And if he is, it's… well, the thing is, he still looks like Lucius Malfoy. So there's nothing to really…" Harry shook his head. "Aunt Petunia, wizards really don't want to believe Voldemort could come back. Even for wizards you don't just come back from the dead. So… with him especially… Most of them would rather pretend nothing was wrong until the war starts again. Then they'd say there was nothing they could have done anyway. That's why Dumbledore thinks we've got a better chance of getting it right if we don't mention Voldemort and go after Malfoy on kidnapping and assault of a minor." At least, that was Harry's understanding of the charges that would be brought against Lucius Malfoy.

And the plan did make sense.

"It's sort of just… If we want to get the end result we want," Harry continued, "we've got to go about it a kind of roundabout way. Like, we want everyone to know Voldemort is back and a threat, don't we? But if we just come out and say it, it's not going to work like that. We just give him a chance to hide better. But if we can get Lucius Malfoy convicted, Voldemort loses one of his main followers—loses his own freedom. Or, sort of—since there's two of them. And maybe once Malfoy is convicted they'll figure out—but even if they don't, this is better, isn't it?"

Harry wasn't sure who he was asking – his aunt or himself – but the words felt right. Sort of. For a given value of right.

Petunia sighed.

"If you say so," she said, her tone defeated and tired. She closed her book. "For all that we live in the same country, the way your people do things is just so… so…"

"Weird?" Harry said.

"Alien," Petunia corrected.

Harry thought that was fair. He'd had the same sorts of thoughts himself, and many times, since joining the wizarding world. Wizards not only functioned differently, they thought differently. And that had been more difficult a thing to get used to than the literal magic. But as for Dumbledore's plans… well, Harry didn't think that was really anything to do with wizard versus muggle patterns of thought. There were wizards – and Harry knew many of them – who'd disagree with Dumbledore's approach, and muggles who'd support it wholeheartedly. Harry supposed it came down to a matter of values. Fundamental questions on whether it would be wrong to achieve something morally right using ethically questionable methods.

Important questions, to be sure, but not ones Harry wanted to engage in while sat in his aunt's pristine and sparkling kitchen. Scrubbed to within an inch of its life – a sure sign of Petunia's stress.

"So… er… just let me know the dates you're available and I'll send the letter back right away," Harry said.

Petunia sighed.

"Ask me again later," she said. "I've got to have a think about it all. Sorry."

Harry nodded and withdrew. That was fair enough, he supposed. Voldemort returning, the trial, learning about forbidden magic… well, it was a lot for anyone. Harry returned to his bedroom and his brooding over the future, of trials and horcruxes and prophecies.

Sooner than Harry would have liked the date for his meeting with Valerian Spellman of Spellman and Spellman Arcane Advocacy came. He dressed in his best, smartest robes which weren't his dress robes. Petunia had dressed in a smart dress, too, clearly on board with the need to appear respectable. Five minutes before they were due to leave for the meeting Harry and Petunia were sat in the living room waiting.

In silence, because the television was off and neither Dudley nor Vernon was in the house. Petunia had a distant look on her face and was staring at the corner of the room where Harry knew there was a photograph of his mother. Harry didn't mind the silence so much as it gave him a chance to go over events in his mind, specifically how they'd relayed them to the aurors rather than the actual sequence of events. No sense getting tripped up in any lies, not when there was so much at stake. Although there wasn't really that much difference between them.

At three minutes until they were due to leave there was a loud, sharp knock at the door. Followed by another, and then another.

Petunia near jumped out of her skin, turned to look at Harry.

"I'll go answer it," Harry said. He shot up and went to answer the door, opening it to reveal Dumbledore. The old wizard always looked a little out of place, even in the wizarding world, with his bold fashion sense, but he seemed especially incongruous with the overall décor in Privet Drive. He wore deep purple robes with sparkling stars and moons all over them, along with heeled boots with pointed and curled toes. He had his beard tucked into his belt and wore what looked like a new pair of half-moon glasses.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Excellent. May I come in?"

"Oh, er—Professor!" Harry said. "Yeah, of course. Come inside." And it probably was best to get Dumbledore inside before any of the neighbours saw him, since Harry didn't think he could cope with rumours of Petunia having an affair with an ancient hippy on top of everything else.

"Excellent," said Dumbledore. He stepped inside and Harry closed the door behind him.

"I thought you'd have apparated right in, Professor," Harry said as he showed Dumbledore to the living room.

"It's considered impolite to apparate directly into someone's home without prior permission," Dumbledore explained. "A point of etiquette."

"Oh," said Harry. That made sense. "Well, my aunt is just through here. How will we be getting to Mr Spellman's office?"

"Lawmage Spellman," corrected Dumbledore absently as he fished around in one of his voluminous pockets. "I have acquired a portkey from the Ministry of Magic. We shall take it there. It activates in exactly two minutes, so we had best hurry."

"Right," Harry said. He led Dumbledore through the short hallway and into the living room. "Aunt Petunia, Professor Dumbledore is here with our Portkey to Spellman and Spellman."

Her face fell.

"Oh, a portkey…" she said. "How… convenient." Having experienced portkey travel before, Harry could agree it wasn't the nicest method. But despite Petunia's half-hearted attempt at sarcasm, it really was convenient, and although Harry didn't doubt Dumbledore could manage it, side-along apparition of two passengers was quite difficult.

Harry supposed Spellman and Spellman's office was somewhere in London – Diagon Alley, perhaps – but even if it was, portkey was still quicker the car.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore. He held out a scruffy old boot. "Our portkey."

Harry looked at it dubiously.

"Why is it a boot? Algie Macmillan had like, a ring thing."

"Ministry regulations require it to be something such as this in the presence of muggles," Dumbledore said. "An unobtrusive object which provides no temptation to pick up." Dumbledore paused. "And Algernon Macmillan likes to skirt the rules where he can." Dumbledore made the statement seemingly without judgement, although Harry did wonder. But given Dumbledore's own relationship to the rules Harry thought it would be more than a little hypocritical to disapprove.

"But my aunt already knows about magic," Harry pointed out.

"Not all regulations are sensible," Dumbledore said simply. "Regardless, it is about to activate. Mrs Dursley, if you would like to take hold of the boot? Harry? Hold tightly."

Petunia reached out to touch the boot, clearly unhappy to be touching such an obviously dirty item. Harry grabbed it. After about half a minute the portkey activated and yanked Harry into its vortex. They went swirling through space and got spat out a smart building in a faux Greco-Roman style that looked to be in one of the side-streets adjoining Diagon Alley. A large sign above the doors proclaimed the building as SPELLMAN & SPELLMAN ARCANE ADVOCACY. The side-street, which Harry thought may have even been Horizont Alley although he wasn't sure, wasn't especially busy. Several of the buildings there looked to be fancy sort of buildings like Spellman and Spellman was, so Harry supposed this was a more upmarket part of the London wizards' enclave. The place where all the more prestigious, less day-to-day businesses and organisations could be found.

Harry glanced at his companions. Dumbledore stood there as if the portkey had been nothing more than summer day's stroll, whereas Petunia was still reeling.

"Where are we?" asked Petunia, looking around as she tried to steady herself from the portkey. The high heels on cobbles probably didn't help, although Harry said nothing.

"Somewhere in London," Harry said. "Near Diagon Alley."

"Shall we go inside?" Dumbledore said. "We ought to not keep Lawmage Spellman waiting." He walked up to the door and opened it, then held out his hand. "After you, Mrs Dursley."

Petunia followed Dumbledore up the steps of the building and went inside. Harry followed her, and they emerged into a surprisingly light and airy entryway. The floors were polished marble with bits and pieces of fossils in them – many of them species of presumably magical creature that Harry didn't recognise. The walls were covered floor to ceiling in exquisite hardwood panelling, and portraits of Spellmans long dead sat in special display alcoves around the room.

A large reception desk took up the majority of the far side of the room opposite the doors, and thick doors flanked it leading elsewhere in the building. There was nobody inside waiting, although a plump middle-aged witch sat at the reception desk flicking through a glossy magazine.

Dumbledore strode right up to the desk. When the witch didn't make any obvious move to greet him, Dumbledore rang the little bell on the counter.

"Excuse me, madam—I have an appointment to see Valerian Spellman in, oh, exactly two and a half minutes," he said.

The witch turned slowly from her magazine to look at Dumbledore.

"Chief Warlock!" she said, her cheeks reddening. "Yes, of course—Lawmage Spellman is expecting you. Go right on in—through the lefthand doors and up the stairs, it's the first office you'll see upstairs. I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting! Have a pleasant day!"

"Thank you very much, madam, and a pleasant day to you as well." Dumbledore took off in the direction indicated and gestured for Harry and Petunia to follow.

"Spellman and Spellman is one of two advocates which operate in the Isles," Dumbledore explained as they all climbed the stairs. "They are quite highly regarded throughout Europe as much of their work is directly with foreign Ministries. They do not ordinarily take criminal cases such as this one," he continued, "but as their competitor has been employed by Lucius Malfoy, they have graciously agreed to provide us with their services."

"If they don't usually take cases like this, will they be any good?" Petunia asked, echoing Harry's own thoughts on the matter. He assumed Dumbledore knew what he was doing, but as it was a choice between two, and one was already taken, well… that wasn't really a choice at all.

"I assure you that Spellman and Spellman is more than capable of providing us with suitable counsel," Dumbledore said. "Valerian Spellman in particular has a successful record representing cases such as ours, albeit earlier in his career, and I am quite confident that he will work his wonderful legal wizardry for us, too."

They reached the top of the stairs.

"Ah! Here we are," said Dumbledore, glancing towards a heavy wooden door. The door had a nameplate on it proclaiming the room as THE OFFICE OF VALERIAN SPELLMAN, SENIOR LAWMAGE. Dumbledore knocked on the door.

"You may enter," called a voice from inside the room. The door swung open and Dumbledore sauntered in.

"Lawmage Spellman," Dumbledore said as he entered. "Valerian. It is good to see you!"

"And you, Albus, and you," said the lawmage. Harry looked him over. He was quite old, although not nearly as old as Dumbledore. He was dressed in robes that were halfway between the traditional robe and a suit, which was a style Harry rarely saw but which nevertheless looked to be made of high-quality materials, in the traditional wizard's green, but a more muted green than usual. He looked fancy enough that Harry felt more comfortable with him as his advocate. Even the office was impeccably turned out, with decoration Harry thought his aunt would consider tasteful amidst the shelves full of books.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Potter," Spellman said to Harry. "And you, Mrs Dursley. Of course, the circumstances aren't quite how I would have liked to meet the Boy-Who-Lived, but we make do. Can I offer you anything to drink? Tea, perhaps? Or maybe something stronger—I can have Miriam bring us some Firewhisky or Icewine, if we're in need of some liquid fortification."

"Oh, Heavens, no!" said Petunia. "None for me, thank you, although I would like some tea."

"Albus?" asked Spellman.

"Tea for me as well, Valerian," said Dumbledore. "I should think it's a little too early for anything else."

"Suit yourself," Spellman said. "The offer's there. Mr Potter?"

"Er, no thanks," Harry said. He didn't fancy tea and he didn't think either his aunt or Dumbledore would allow him the whisky or wine.

Spellman wrote a little note onto a scrap of parchment, tapped it with his wand, and it went flying out of office like a little parchment butterfly.

"While we're waiting let's get down to some business, shall we?" said Spellman. "Mrs Dursley, I understand that you're a muggle. That's right, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," confirmed Petunia. "That isn't a problem, is it?"

"No, no—not for me, anyway," said Spellman. "Although it does mean you won't be able to give proper testimony at the trial… you can provide a written statement but you won't be able to speak. Archaic laws, almost nobody agrees with them anymore, but you know how hard it can be to get anything done. So with that out of the way, is there anything you'd like to know?"

Petunia didn't seem to like that one bit. Her lips curled into the exact same grimace she got when Mrs Jones's cat snuck into the house. But she didn't protest.

"I don't know where to begin," Petunia said instead. "I'm not sure how any of this works."

"It can be daunting," said Spellman. "In brief, the Wizengamot is the legislative and judicial authority in the wizarding world. It makes and enforces our laws, oversees trials, all of that sort of thing. Given the high-profile nature of this trial I expect the Minister himself will be present, as well as his support staff—"

"The Minister?" Harry said, interrupting. "I didn't—I mean—is it really his job to do that? What about judges?"

"Yes," said Spellman, "the Minister will be a judge. It's customary for top Ministry officials to serve in this capacity. Is this a problem?"

That was something rather different to what Harry had been expecting. He'd been thinking more along muggle lines, of a judge and lawyers and maybe even a jury. But the trial was literally in front of the Wizengamot, the body that made laws, including the Minister.

"Er…" Harry said. He shrugged. "I suppose not. I mean, if it's the usual way it's done. I just wasn't expecting that—it's not how muggles do it. So I just supposed… but it doesn't matter."

"It does seem unusual," added Petunia. "At least to my way of thinking."

"I have of course recused myself from this particular trial," Dumbledore added, "but I have served on the Wizengamot during criminal trials many times in my capacity as Chief Warlock."

"Ah, yes, I'd been wondering who you'd appointed in your place, actually," Spellman said. "Have you chosen?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "I have asked Griselda—Madam Marchbanks—to act in my stead. She has, fortunately for us all, agreed; I had been worried the Minister would appoint Dolores Umbridge."

"Wouldn't that have been a treat," muttered Spellman. "Although no doubt she'll find herself involved regardless. Well, that's a bit of good news. Of course, the trial would have been much easier to win if you had been one of the judges, eh, Albus?"

Before Dumbledore could reply, a lithe young witch sashayed into the room carrying a tray with tea on it. She placed the tray gently onto Spellman's desk and smiled.

"Your drinks," she said simply. "Uncle Val, if you need anything more, please just ask."

"That's a good girl, Mim," Spellman said. He glanced at Harry. "In the market for a girlfriend, Mr Potter? You'd do much worse than Mim. Have a think on it."

Harry turned bright red. While Miriam – Mim – was a perfectly attractive witch and seemed quite nice, at least from the brief interaction Harry had had with her, she was also at least a decade older than Harry and Harry wasn't really looking to be set up with his lawyer's niece. Especially not while he was sat in a meeting with his headmaster and his aunt.

It was more than a little awkward. Harry sat there silently, unsure quite where to look.

"Ignore him, Mr Potter," said Mim. "He thinks he's funny but really he's just inappropriate. I promise he's a better advocate than matchmaker." She paused. "And comedian."

"One of these days, Mim, I'll say something and you'll laugh. One of these days."

"Keep trying, Uncle Val. Until then, maybe you can do some actual work around here?" She smiled. "I'd best be off—I don't just get you your teas, Uncle Val."

"Too right, too right," said Spellman. "You'd better get back to it then."

Mim left, and for that, Harry was quite glad. The whole exchange had been unpleasant. Awkward, and not at all what he wanted from the meeting.

"Good girl, Mim," said Spellman once she'd left. "She's the future of Spellman and Spellman, you know—once she's finished her apprenticeship I'll be handing off to her. But you've got to keep her on her toes. Now, where were we? Oh, yes—your statement," Spellman said, turning to Harry. "I've reviewed the statement you gave to the aurors, naturally, but I was wondering if we could go over your version of events once more. Would that be agreeable, Mr Potter?"

"I, er… yeah. Yeah," Harry said. It was what they'd come for, after all. "Where should I start?"

"I would you like to recount events as you remember them starting from the moment you realised Mr Malfoy—Draco—was missing from your duelling bout," Spellman said. He had on his desk in front of him a partially furled parchment scroll and a Dictaquill. "In your own time."

Harry nodded. That was easy enough. And it was all the truth, so he wouldn't even have to lie. Just… omit some of the context. So Harry relayed his story of the events of the Pariturium finals to Spellman who, contrary to his earlier bit of unprofessionalism, listened intently. He occasionally glanced down at the parchment, but mostly kept his gaze on Harry. When Harry reached the part of his tale where Lucius Malfoy had used the Imperius Curse on him, Spellman put up a hand for Harry to pause.

"Stop there. To be clear, you say that Lucius Malfoy used the Imperius Curse on you. That was in your statement to the aurors as well. What did he make you do?"

"Well, technically, nothing," Harry said after a few moments and a glance over at Dumbledore. "I can resist the Imperius Curse. We did it in lessons with Professor Moody. But… er… Malfoy wanted me to take him to the room where Draco was."

"And were you not doing this already? What reason would he have to use an Unforgivable Curse on you?" Spellman asked. "Understand that I am not asking this because I do not believe you, but because it is a question which needs to be answered."

"Right," Harry said. "Well, so, the thing is… Malfoy knew how to get into the room, but not where it was. I knew where it was but not how to open it. So, er, I wasn't going to tell him what I knew unless he told me what he knew. But he didn't want to, so he used the Curse, only it didn't work…"

"I see, I see," said Spellman. "Continue."

So Harry did. He took Spellman through a sanitised version of Harry and Lucius's ascent through the castle to the Room of Requirement.

"…and then when we got there, because I'd worked out how to get in," Harry said, "I, er, used the Knockback Hex on Malfoy and slipped into the room before him. Because I didn't trust him, not after he'd used the Imperius Curse on me, so I didn't want to give him the chance to… well, to curse me again."

"And why did you not run? Attempt to seek help? Go anywhere other than an unknown room where you knew neither where there was an exit, nor what awaited you inside?" asked Spellman.

Bollocks, Harry thought. Well. That was a perfectly reasonable question to ask, and one Harry would have asked himself. Only, the answer was on the list of things he wasn't supposed to talk about. So that meant a lie. Only a small one, since he could give the general thought process behind entering the Room of Hidden Things without mentioning Voldemort… but it was still a lie.

At least it was a lie Dumbledore backed. That had to count for something.

"Well, er… so, the thing is, I thought Draco was up to something all year," Harry said. "So, when it came to it, I was a bit worried about him. That he might have been doing something really bad. But then I thought, since he'd been acting so weird, maybe he was in trouble, too, and I just… well… I was so close. So I went inside. And Malfoy was right behind me anyway—I don't think I could have got away. So it was let myself be caught by Malfoy—who'd just used the Imperius Curse on me—or go into the room, and I chose to go into the room."

That was the story he'd agreed upon with Dumbledore. And it did make a kind of sense, even if none of that reasoning was as pressing as worries about Voldemort.

"A reasonable response," Spellman said. "And then?"

Harry explained what had happened after he'd entered the Room of Hidden Things, without a single lie, right up until he found Draco sat on his makeshift throne in the midst of some arcane ritual.

"And then I found Draco. He was messing around with this crown—I'd never seen it before but it was giving off this powerful Dark energy. Like, really strong. I'd never felt anything like it before but it was the sort of thing that you just know is… bad." Harry felt a shiver run up his spine, a real one, not put on for Spellman, as he remembered the vile and hateful aura put out by the horcrux in the Diadem. "And that's when he started fighting with me. So we fought for a bit—he used the curse that gave me my new scar on my chest—and eventually I dropped a statue on him, knocked him out. That was when Lucius Malfoy got involved—he seemed to know what the crown was, like he was expecting to find it. Then he grabbed Draco and the crown-thingy and left. Then I don't really know what happened because I fainted. When I woke up my friends Tracey and Ernie had found me with Snape—Professor Snape. That's everything, I think."

Everything Harry was allowed to say. There had been a bit of bother with Lucius Malfoy trying to shift the possession from Draco to himself, but that was unnecessary detail. Harry had covered the existence of the Diadem, cast it as a Dark object, and even suggested that both Malfoys had known about it already. That had to be enough.

"Very interesting. It's useful for me to hear the words right from you, although everything you've said does agree with the written statement you gave a couple of weeks ago," said Spellman. "Here is something interesting. I've been able to read the official report the Malfoys have given to the aurors, and they have not mentioned any Dark artefacts. Draco is said to be recovering from a spell—a curse of some kind—which you allegedly cast upon him. The most curious thing is that the spell left a mark across his forehead. A cursed scar."

"Well, that will be from the crown," said Petunia immediately. "I may not understand magic, but that's what it's from, isn't it?"

"A very good guess, Mrs Dursley!" said Spellman. "Indeed, that is what I think as well."

"Hmm, yes, yes," said Dumbledore. "I knew of the crown, of course, from Harry's earlier statement. I hadn't yet seen the Malfoys' statement, but it does seem very likely that the Dark object in question gave him that scar."

"Ah, it'll be kept from you, I'd expect," said Spellman. "Given your proximity to the case. Has to go through official channels!"

"I definitely didn't cast a Dark spell on Draco," Harry said. "I didn't even use any of the curses they teach at school."

"I believe you!" said Spellman. "And even if I didn't, I don't think we would say any different anyway. After all, practicing Dark magic on school property is a key part of your accusation here. That the Malfoys have responded in kind is a perfectly natural counterclaim to what we've alleged. And really, it's the only thing strong enough to act as an appropriate response. So. This is where we are," Spellman said. "I'll summarise, shall I?"

Spellman went over the main points, reading each one from his parchment. When he was finished, Dumbledore nodded, seemingly to himself.

"Yes, I do believe all this is correct," said Dumbledore. "And you think our approach here will win the trial?"

Spellman shrugged.

"We've as good a chance as possible, I should think. Nothing is certain. But what Mr Potter has said about the Dark object does fit with injuries sustained by the Malfoy boy, and it will be hard to prove that Mr Potter knows any spells of that calibre let alone is able to use them."

The aspersion – slight though it was – of Harry's spellcasting prowess stung a little, but given the circumstances, Harry thought he should probably just let it go. For once, it was good not to be thought capable of such a thing.

"I think I have enough to start building our case," Spellman continued. "I'll have a preliminary hearing in a week or so—none of you need to be present—where I'll present our side, and that cow Gavelwood will present theirs. We should know more then. In the meantime, is there anyone who would be able to provide a character reference for you, Mr Potter? Ideally we'd have two, from wizards or witches in good standing in our community. They'll go with the statements we'll take from your teachers, you see."

"Er…" Harry said. Most of the adult wizards he knew were his teachers. Dumbledore was in the room already, and part of the case besides. Otherwise… "I do, actually—Algie and Mairi Macmillan would probably give a reference, and, um, Gwen—that's not her full name but I can't say her full one—Davis and her husband Colin. Gwen works at the Ministry, so… that's good, isn't it?"

Spellman nodded and scratched down the names onto his parchment.

"Everyone knows the Macmillans, of course. An excellent choice, should do you very well. The Davises are bit more obscure, but I know of Gwen from her work at the Wales Office. You could do a lot worse for references, let me tell you."

Harry shrugged.

"Those are sort of my only options, if I'm honest," he said. He'd never met any of his other friends' parents, with the sole exception of Theodore's father, and that was… well… also not an option. The only other adult wizard who wasn't a teacher or member of staff at Hogwarts who knew Harry well enough to provide a character reference was Sirius, and Sirius was a wanted criminal. Literally a fugitive on the run from the law.

"Well as it happens they're very good options," said Spellman, "so you needn't worry. I'll just have Mim send them a letter asking them to provide a reference, and then—"

"Er, actually," interrupted Harry, "I think I'd feel better letting them know first. You know, just so they don't get an official looking letter and… well… I just thought it would be better if I asked them first."

"Hmm, well, I suppose," Spellman said. "Have a go at writing a little note here and we'll get it sent out—I've a few things to discuss with Albus and your aunt anyway." He rummaged around in his desk and then took out some parchment, a quill, and an inkpot which he gave to Harry. "You get started with that while we have a little chat, then."

Harry nodded.

It shouldn't be too difficult at all to scribe a quick little letter to the Macmillans and the Davises, and it really was the least he could do. Nobody wanted to get letters from lawyers out of the blue, so Harry felt like it was appropriate to let them know he'd be asking for a character reference first. He didn't think they'd turn it down, but in the event they did, at least they were just saying no to Harry and not to one of the country's premier legal minds.

Harry tried out a few different openings on the parchment. 'Dear Mr and Mrs Davis,' he tried first, but that sounded far too formal. Gwen and Colin had insisted that Harry call them Gwen and Colin, after all. So Harry tried that instead, but 'Hi Gwen and Colin' seemed too informal.

Harry grunted in frustration.

Gwen and Colin,

It's Harry. I'm sorry to be writing to you like this, especially so early in the summer. I'm sure you've heard about what happened at the Triwizard Tournament at the end of the school year. We've made a formal accusation against Lucius Malfoy after what happened, and I'm really sorry to bother you with all of this but my advocate, Valerian Spellman, wants character references from wizards of good standing in the community. I was wondering if you would mind providing me with one? You don't have to but it would be really helpful. I just wanted to ask you first so you didn't get any letters from Spellman & Spellman.

Thank you very much,

Harry

Satisfied that was suitable for Gwen and Colin, Harry turned his attention to Algie and Mairi.

Algie and Mairi,

This is Harry. You've probably heard about what's happening with me and the Malfoys by now, especially after what happened at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. I'm really sorry to bother you about this, especially during the summer, but with the trial coming up my advocate, Spellman & Spellman, wants character references for the trial from wizards in good standing in the community. I thought about you. I was just wondering if you would mind providing me with a reference? It would be really helpful for the trial. So I just wanted to let you know that Lawmage Spellman will be sending a letter asking for a reference.

Thank you very much,

Harry

That seemed good. Appropriate and covered everything that needed to be covered. By the time Harry was finished, Petunia had finished giving a statement of her own, and Spellman was able to look over the letters Harry had prepared.

"Yes, yes, very good," Spellman said. "We'll have to send out our own still, of course—it's our policy and we'd like to give them a bit more instruction in what we'd like them to say—but that'll do. We'll send these letters out ahead, and then ours the next day, if that's agreeable with the three of you?"

Harry nodded. He'd make sure to send a letter of his own to Tracey and Ernie warning them, since it was only fair, but otherwise, Spellman's plan sounded fine.

"And I think that's that, then," said Spellman. "We'll be seeing each other again and soon, of course, for the first hearing—I'll send an owl letting you know about the times and date. We can expect an August date."

"Right," said Harry, "thank you."

"Thank you very much, Mr Spellman," Petunia said. "Oh, that's not how you say it, is it? It's… Lawmage Spellman. I'm so sorry."

Spellman waved away the apology.

"It's just a title. Never liked it, anyway—reminds me too much of my father. Awful man. Well, unless there's anything more, I think we're done here for today."

"Indeed," said Dumbledore. "Thank you very much for your time today, Valerian. It's greatly appreciated."

"Nonsense," said Spellman. "You've nothing to thank me for—you're paying me, and I do like gold." His tone was easy, jocular almost, and there was a twinkle in his eye that told Harry it really was a joke… but it seemed like one with an undercurrent of truth. Lawyers were all the same, Harry supposed.

Spellman saw the three of them out of his office, and together they exited the grand Spellman and Spellman building.

"We're a little bit early for our return portkey," Dumbledore said, checking the time on an antique golden pocket watch, "so we shall simply have to wait."

"How long?" asked Petunia.

"Three and a half minutes," replied Dumbledore. "So not very long at all." He took another object from his pocket, this time a deflated bicycle tyre, and held it out in front of him. "This shall be our return portkey."

Petunia eyes it suspiciously.

"How does that fit in—" she began, but then stopped herself midway. "Ah. Magic. Of course. Even after all these years I…" She sighed.

"It happens to the best of us, Mrs Dursley," Dumbledore said, quite happily. "You know, I have been a qualified wizard for a century and there are still things I forget daily."

After that, there was an awkward silence until the portkey activated, as nobody seemed to know what to say. Harry had things he would speak to Dumbledore about, but not in front of his aunt; things he would speak to his aunt about, but not in front of Dumbledore; and they probably had similar feelings too… so nobody said anything.

When at last the portkey was about to activate, Harry grabbed it and held on tight, keen to be away.

Harry, Dumbledore, and Petunia reappeared inside the living room at Number Four, just behind where Dudley sat playing his PlayStation using the big television in the living room.

"Fucking—er—I mean—" shouted Dudley. "Er. Sorry for the—but—I didn't even—"

For once, Petunia didn't bother correcting the language. She brushed herself down and sighed.

"Thank you accompanying us, Professor Dumbledore," she said. "I really do appreciate it."

"The pleasure was all mine, Mrs Dursley. Harry, I'll see you at the next hearing. Please, do enjoy your summer in spite of all that is happening."

"I'll try, Professor," Harry said. There would be an invitation to the European Circuit's Summer Tournament coming any day, and after that, one for flight school. As excited as he'd been at the prospect of those things before the end of the year, they were somewhat less enticing given everything that had happened. But for Tracey's sake Harry thought he'd attend the Summer Tournament.

"Excellent! Now, if you'll excuse me, I shall be going—I have a very important appointment to keep! Farewell." Dumbledore apparated away with a crack.

Dudley jumped.

"Why does everything have to make a fu—bloody noise?" he complained. He sighed. "A bunch of letters came for you," he said to Harry. "A load of owls came and wouldn't go away until I let them in. The letters are in the kitchen." He turned back to his game, duties discharged, clearly uninterested in further conversation with either his mother or cousin. At least until he glanced back at Harry. "Nice dress," he said, turning back to his game.

"Thanks," muttered Harry. "I'll just go grab them…"