A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks again for all the interaction with the story! We're coming up on 1,000 favs now, which makes no sense to me. I appreciate all the support, and the desire to write remains. I knocked out VERY rough drafts of two action/emotion packed chapters last night, and had the weirdest of dreams because of it.

A bit of a dry one here, but the trials needed to be shown to introduce a couple folk. If you ever have a chance to travel, I highly recommend Florence. Sienna is my favorite place I've been in Italy, but Florence was pretty great, too. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 31

February 6, 1996

"What d'you think?"

"I think we look like a wannabe biker gang," Harry answered, studying his reflection dubiously.

The black leather jacket he wore had a short, upright collar without lapels, but was otherwise unembellished besides two pockets near his belt line just above the hem.

After checking into their hotel and unpacking their things, Harry's group quickly hit the streets of Florence to get a taste of the city. After a few minutes of exploring, his godfather had tugged him into the leather goods shop, something the country was famous for. He turned to look back at the jacket he was wearing from a different angle, not sure he could pull off the look, and saw Sirius preening.

"Speak for yourself, kiddo. I am a biker."

"Sure you are. When was the last time you rode?"

"Hey," Sirius defended. "Hagrid said he'd pick up Bucephalus once Grawp is fully settled. I'll be back on the road in no time."

"Bucephalus? If you ask me to call you Padfoot the Great I'm hexing you."

"I've always assumed you say the second part in your head," the man quipped, tugging at the bottom of his jacket to flatten it. "I think we should get 'em."

"I don't think I'm a leather jacket kinda guy," Harry countered, feeling a bit ridiculous.

"I'm telling you, it looks good! Look, let's buy it, and if Daphne doesn't approve you can shove it in a closet somewhere and forget about it."

"Fine," Harry relented with a smile, shrugging out of the expensive jacket and handing it to his godfather. "But you're paying."

"Deal!"

He watched the man make his way towards the lone cash register, pulling out a wad of money as he did. Harry had insisted on paying for everyone's hotel rooms, but Sirius and Daniel were determined they would pay for things like meals and souvenirs. He tried to argue, but the men held firm. He readjusted his shirt, double checking that his necklace and Daphne's armband didn't get caught in the garment. A quick touch of the armband sent a rush of butterflies to the teen's stomach, and he couldn't help but grin at the feeling.

The necklace was a much newer addition to his wardrobe, but just as important at the moment. Albus had turned thin silver chains into word-activated portkeys, which would transport the group back to the headmaster's office if needed. Harry felt relatively safe in Italy, but knew the witness list for the trial was public knowledge. The ICW-approved portkey was escape plan number one, and Dobby and Winky were listening for everyone in the group as plan number two.

He hoped they wouldn't need the jewelry or elves, but he definitely felt safer having them available. The crowds alone were a cause of anxiety, and Harry knew that if an attack did occur, escaping on foot with two muggles and three underage teens would be tough to manage.

His eyes found the rest of his group in front of the shop, looking at various souvenirs offered by street vendors. They all seemed excited by the experience, and Daphne's wide smile seemed to light up the air around her. He must've been obvious, as Sirius returned with a snort of laughter.

"Alright, loverboy. Put this on and go see what she thinks."

He slid into the soft leather jacket and reached for the zipper.

"Whoa now," Sirius interrupted. "Keep it unzipped. It's a better look."

Harry shrugged in acceptance and led the man from the shop. He moved through the crowd as quickly as he could without being rude, ignoring the calls of a few vendors wanting his attention. Daniel was the closest of the group, clearly on guard, and smirked when he saw the approaching pair.

"Looks good, Harry. Maybe you two can find matching pants and boots while you're at it."

"The jacket will be plenty," Harry countered before an eager Sirius could. "In fact, it feels like more than enough."

"I dunno, kiddo," his godfather broke in. "Maybe we could get a team uniform going. Leather jackets for the guys, and fur for the ladies."

"Absolutely not," Emily answered as she joined them. "If anything, it'll be leather all around."

"Now there's a thought," Daniel flirted with an obvious wink.

"Go show Daphne," she replied, swatting Daniel on the shoulder.

He moved to do so, spotting the girl perusing a stand of silk scarves with Hermione. Daphne seemed to feel his gaze as she looked up, her mouth falling open slightly. Harry grinned at the expression and approached with a cocky strut.

"You ruined it," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"What? You don't like it?"

"The jacket, yes. Your Lucius Malfoy impression, no."

Harry grinned at her in response, before leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. Daphne blushed slightly, and he figured Sirius may have a point about the jacket. She slid his arm through his, and they turned back to Hermione and the scarves.

"Tell Hermione she needs to get that red one."

"Hermione, you need to get that red one."

"You didn't even look at it," the Gryffindor girl argued.

"That wasn't part of my instructions! Besides, Daphne's taste in clothes is almost as good as that in boyfriends."

Hermione laughed as the girl in question swatted his arm, and Harry faked outrageous pain. Looking up, he saw Ron leading his and Hermione's parents back to the rest of the group from a few stalls over.

"Nice, mate," the redhead smiled as he drew close. "Maybe I can find a used one, if I don't spend all my money on gelato."

Harry felt a bit weird, knowing money was always a sore subject for his friend. Luckily, Sirius had followed, and stepped in to solve the problem.

"We can go pick one out for you now. Anything you find on this trip, within reason, is on me and Daniel."

"Sirius, I couldn't accept that," the boy replied awkwardly. "I have a little money saved up."

"I already cleared it with your parents, Ron. It's the least I can do after you willingly submitted yourself to torture. Hermione, same goes for you."

Ron glanced at his mom, who smiled in response.

"Okay," he relented, still obviously uneasy. "But I'll get a cheaper one."

"They don't have tags on them," Sirius countered with a grin. "Just find one you like, and try not to think anything of it. I owe you ten times that for your leg in third year anyway."

"Get a rich brown one," Hermione offered before he could leave.

"Any idea what 'rich brown' is, Sirius?" Ron asked.

"Not a clue. I'm a 'rich Black', though," he grinned as the teens groaned at the bad joke. "Hermione, pick out a scarf or two. Daniel can buy them while you and your parents come help us look."

As the group moved to do so, Harry, Daphne, and the Weasley parents found a coffee shop to wait. Arthur and Molly chose a small two-seater table in the corner, leaving a similar table in the window for the teens.

Harry let Daphne order for him, as the menu was literally a foreign language for him. A few minutes later a pair of cappuccinos was served, and he sipped cautiously at the hot beverage.

"What do you think?" Daphne asked with an amused grin.

"I think apple juice is underrated. Who drinks this stuff?"

"Half the world," she answered, taking a small sip of her own with a happy sigh. "You'll get used to the taste."

"Any taste I need to 'get used to' isn't worth the effort."

"We'll get gelato next. That'll be easier on your immature palate."

Harry ignored the tease, smiling at Daniel and Emily as they entered and ordered. The teens were silent for a moment, watching the bustling passersby, when the surreality of his situation hit him like a brick. He must have made a face, as Daphne playfully nudged his foot under the table.

"What's wrong?"

"My life, I think. How are we here? The last eight months have been such a roller coaster, and I just had this moment of bizarre realization."

"It's been a lot, hasn't it?"

"Too much," Harry admitted. "If someone said to me last May, that in less than a year I'd be sharing a coffee in Italy with my girlfriend Daphne Greengrass, I'd assume the person was drunk or Luna."

"Are you complaining?"

"About the roller coaster maybe, but not the girlfriend."

"Good answer. I feel the same, if it makes you feel better. Last May I was a cold-hearted Slytherin just trying to make it through school unscathed. Now I've been whisked away to a romantic city because we've saved the world from the threat of an evil witch."

"When you put it that way, you make me want to go kick my past self and point him in your direction."

"Please don't speak things like that into existence," Daphne countered with a frustrated look. "Knowing you, it'll come true, and I will not be traveling through time with you. It's too confusing."

"Nah. Hermione and I didn't cause any major calamity."

"Besides obviously frying your own brain, you mean?"

"My brain was completely unfried until I saw you last summer," he argued with a grin.

"And now?"

"Fried ten times a day, I think."

"I'm happy to be of service."

"You're happy to be a nuisANCE…"

Harry sent an apologetic look to those seated around him for his outburst, rubbing a newly sore shin. He saw Daniel laughing at him from near the counter, and sent the man a dark look before turning back to his attacker.

"Rude."

"Deserved. Finish your coffee."

"But it's rude, too."

—

February 7, 1996

The first day of the trials were monotonous, at best. The couple hours at the start were spent covering procedure and protocol, and the last few were spent viewing witness testimony, including Ron and Hermione's. Pucey's trial was set for later in the month, but Fudge and Umbridge sat at a table in front of the judge, silent as they watched their worlds crumble around them.

Fudge's wife was present for the trial, a constant source of tears and loud sniffles. Harry felt sorry for her, knowing she likely had no part in how the man had chosen to comport himself. His sympathy didn't extend to her husband, however, as he knew the man was deserving of anything the courts decided just.

The only real surprise from the first day was the approach of the French and Italian delegates with Albus, once the trial was put on recess.

"Harry," the Supreme Mugwump began. "I'd like to introduce Madame Marie Leroy, and Signor Lorenzo Ricci. They asked for a moment of your time."

"Of course, it's an honor," he responded with a slight bow.

"Monsieur Potter," Leroy answered with a smile. "Could I ask you to join us in my office for a brief meeting?"

"I'd be happy to, if Lord Dumbledore may join us."

"He's already agreed to," Ricci answered gruffly. "As has Mr. Volkov of Poland. We will meet you there in a few minutes. Albus can show you the way."

The delegates turned and left, and Albus smiled softly at the teen's questioning look. Harry turned to his group, slightly confused, and saw the expression mirrored in the faces of his friends.

"Harry," Albus offered gently. "I trust the three, and believe they may be sympathetic to our cause. A meeting with you would go a long way in securing help from their Ministries."

"Of course," he agreed reluctantly, shooting a quick apologetic look at Daphne. "Lead the way."

"Don't start world war three, please," Daphne requested as he turned.

"No promises. Dig the trenches, Daniel."

He followed Albus through a dizzying maze of hallways, eventually coming to a door with a French flag painted on its glass window. When opened, it revealed a bustling suite of offices, with a large bullpen of occupied desks.

He followed his mentor to the most ornate of the offices, and Albus knocked before entering. The two delegates were seated inside, with who he figured was Mr. Volkov standing and extending a hand.

"Jakub," the large man offered as they shook.

"Harry."

"Gentlemen, please take a seat," Madame Leroy offered kindly. "Monsieur Potter, I've heard you are friendly with Jean Delacour."

"I am, Madame. He's a new, but admired friend. I also know his daughter, Fleur."

"A dangerous acquaintance," Volkov said from his right.

"I disagree, sir," Harry replied respectfully. "Fleur is a powerful and lovely witch."

"Though not entirely human," the man growled.

Harry's stomach dropped at the tone, and he felt his magic begin to build. He may not have known Fleur well, but the woman and her kind didn't deserve derision from anyone from what he had learned. The Veela at the World Cup were hired for a purpose, while the vast majority of their kind struggled to smother their powers, just as he struggled to force his magic from producing outward effects at the moment.

"Someone who would look down on her," he replied with a scowl, his eyes glowing. "Is someone I have no interest in meeting with, sir."

He began to rise from his seat, but was stopped by a friendly smile from Albus.

"Harry, Jakub was testing you. His wife is Veela, though there is significant prejudice towards them in Eastern Europe. Something he is working against fervently."

Harry turned back to Volkov, seeing a smile on the man's face. He sighed in relief, glad he hadn't caused an international incident in the first few minutes of the meeting.

"My apologies, Harry," Jakub offered sincerely. "I find it easier to determine the bigots if they feel safe to express their opinions."

"I understand, sir, and your acting skills are impressive. Is your wife related to the Delacours?"

"Distantly. There are two main clans of Veela, my wife comes from the Russian, though it and the French have common ancestors."

"I hope to meet her, and I'll return my heartrate to normal given a few moments."

His joke broke the tension in the room, though he still felt supremely uncomfortable surrounded by the world leaders.

"I'm honored to meet you all," Harry began again, hoping to move things forward. "But I thought my part in the trials would be minimal."

"It will be," Madame Leroy agreed. "But we wanted to meet briefly to discuss the coming war."

"If I may," Volkov interrupted. "Harry, I represent most of Eastern Europe and Russia in this meeting. Poland is the only magical country in the region that is officially outspoken against dark magic, and in result, Voldemort, but most other countries agree behind closed doors. We suffered at the hands of Grindelwald, as did our muggle counterparts at the hands of Hitler.

"Russia alone lost twenty-seven million muggles in the war, and the wizarding community was nearly cut in half. We are not willing to allow this new monster to repeat the past, though our governments are democratic. There are vocal dissenters among us that would not allow direct assistance at the moment."

"Italy, too, suffered from the last war," Ricci added. "As did our Mediterranean neighbors. The only reason we meet in France's office and not ours, is because our Minister is handcuffed by an opposition congress."

"I understand your difficulties, gentlemen," Harry replied diplomatically. "Though I'm a bit confused as to why you're meeting with a fifteen year old. I know Albus has given you what information he can, but I can't offer any further. I'm determined to keep things close to the vest, as my parents' fate was decided by someone they mistakenly trusted. That won't happen this time."

"We appreciate that mindset," Madame Leroy answered for the group. "And we won't ask to be let into your confidence until given our Ministries' permission. But Jean has expressed his pleasure at the information provided by your inner circle, and he is impressed by the moves you've made so far. I merely thought it beneficial to provide an introduction, and see where that took us."

"Madame, I'd give every galleon in my vault for any of you to pledge your support, though that doesn't seem like an option at the moment."

"It isn't," Ricci agreed. "Not until we get a solid majority. There is a very… fervent minority in my country alone that would cause unbearable difficulty. However, that minority has already been approached by your opposition, and once we're able to prove it, I hope to sway the Minister to act."

"Sir," Harry interrupted worriedly. "Are you saying my group isn't safe in your country?"

"That's not it at all, Mr. Potter. I have magical and muggle protection following your group, the magical equipped with portkeys should any threat present itself."

"I haven't felt them, Signore."

"Call me Lorenzo," the man answered with a smile. "I have been assured by Albus that you are worthy of a friendship, and your behavior in this meeting has proven him correct. My government works more closely with the muggle than yours does, and we have a unit of muggle special forces that are briefed on our world. It is that force that has been following you closely, with witches and wizards nearby should you need them.

"Your group would be defended by the best our country has to offer, and I believe their methods would prove effective against any that wished to harm you. You may rest easy while in my home."

"I don't know how to express my thanks, Lorenzo," Harry replied sincerely. "I've been anxious since we've arrived, and I appreciate your efforts more than I can say."

"You're quite welcome, Harry, though I wish I could promise more. Once war officially breaks out, I believe a decent number of my countrymen will join your opponent's side. When that happens, I will raise heaven and earth to match the number at the very least."

"As will I," Volkov promised. "And the countries I represent."

"This is going to be bigger than I thought," Harry mused, a knot in his gut forming. "I'm grateful for your promises, and will rely on them to be fulfilled. I've sworn to kill the bastard, but I won't be able to if I can't get to him."

"Our Minister has granted me the power to promise three hundred, Harry," Madame Leroy added. "Jean has been hard at work on the man. That force will be available within the month to train with your own, though we know it may be longer before they're requested for permanent duty. Russia's magical population and military force is easily the largest, though they have learned a hard lesson by sending it to other countries' aid.

"I shall try to arrange a meeting with you and their delegate, though I don't hold much hope on accomplishing the feat before the trial is over. But we wanted you to know you don't stand alone."

Harry, his mind whirling from all the information, simply nodded in response. The numbers that were being discussed were far beyond anything he had spoken with Charlus and Arcturus about, and the thought worried him. He was glad for the promises, but had hoped to end the conflict before it grew to this stage.

"I wish I could finish this now," he finally replied, feeling the need to explain. "But if I fail, I don't know what will happen. I don't know how many chances I'll get, and…"

"Harry," Albus interrupted. "As much as I trust these three, they've yet to sign a contract."

"Then I'll just thank you for your promises," Harry offered, kicking himself for almost saying too much in his confusion. "I'll ask Albus to act as our intermediary, and hope we're being overly cautious."

"That's a better approach than we had last time," Volkov admitted darkly. "Grindelwald smiled to our faces while he stabbed us in the back. Our eyes are open this time around at the very least."

"I thank you for it, and I swear I'll do everything I can."

"That's all we ask," Ricci replied with a smile. "After meeting you, I feel confident in your best."

—

Harry followed Albus back towards the courtroom, knowing his group would be waiting for him. He couldn't quite get his mind around the meeting he'd just experienced, but knew his reputation helped more than his responses.

"I assume," Albus began as they turned the final corner towards the courtroom. "That this is when you tell me you were given lessons in diplomacy by Neville Chamberlain."

"Longbottom is the only Neville for me, sir," Harry countered with a grin. "And from what I know of muggle history, Chamberlain wasn't quite the example you'd like him to be…"

"Then I'll say that was very professionally done, and leave it there. Those three were a bit hesitant when I approached them weeks ago. I believe you've made a significant difference today, Harry."

"I'm not sure how, but if I did, I'd be glad. Do we have any absolute allies?"

"France is the closest. Governments around the world are hearing the rumors, but know that acknowledging the danger could put their citizens directly in it. I have a feeling I'll be setting up meetings for you for a while, and I can only hope the leaders will act."

"Meetings with a teenager," Harry grumbled unhappily. "Sir, I'm not very comfortable with this. It should be you or Daniel. I'm nothing to these people."

"Harry, you just stared down the Commander of Poland's Magical Special Forces, one of the most respected in the world. If anything, he blinked. I know you don't believe it, but you're more than capable of holding these meetings. I'll shield you when I can, but it's going to come down to you."

Harry sighed frustratedly. He knew when he returned from the other side that he'd be looked to, but the extent of that attention was quickly growing out of what he was prepared for. But if meeting with these accomplished people afforded him help in the upcoming struggle, he'd find the will to do so.

"Albus," he began confidently. "I honestly hate that idea, but I'll do it all the same."

—

February 9, 1996

"The Prosecution asks Harry James Potter to take the stand."

Harry nodded at the Italian attorney, and made his way to the floor of the chamber. Daphne's testimony had gone smoothly, though the English lawyer defending Umbridge and Fudge had tried to trip her up with specific questions on the timing of the stories heard from other witnesses. Luckily, Daphne's memory was better than anyone Harry knew, and she answered the questions with graceful disdain.

He knew his own interrogation was likely to be more involved, and sat in the hard wooden chair while pushing his nerves away. He raised his right hand and promised to speak the truth, though the magic of the court itself guaranteed people found it difficult to lie while speaking from the chair.

"Lord Potter," the prosecuting attorney began with a smile. "Thank you for joining us in person, and I hope you've enjoyed your brief time in my country."

Harry smiled at the attractive witch, nodding his agreement. He and Daphne had met with the woman earlier in the week, and she told him he'd be given a chance to speak to the gathered world leaders freely.

"It's been great, madam, and I thank your government for its welcome."

"Our Minister will be happy to hear it. I have but one question for you, as the evidence presented so far has been overwhelming. It seems as if your actions have been meticulously planned. We've read the biased accounts of your Wizengamot from The Daily Prophet, as we did the interview you gave The Quibbler. I can only assume your actions in defense of the students of Hogwarts is related, so my question is this: What is the driving force of your actions over the past year? You may take your time, answering as fully as you are comfortable, and I'll accept any explanation as pertinent to my question."

Harry took a moment to think, knowing his full answer was limited by the contracts he'd signed.

"Madam," he began, finding an answer he was happy with. "My actions have been dictated by one simple fact: The Dark Lord who has named himself Lord Voldemort has returned, and is recruiting large numbers of witches and wizards to his cause as we speak. I tried to convince Minister Fudge of that truth, but he denied my story, and has worked to discredit me in every way available to him.

"One of those avenues was his power over Hogwarts, and he placed a horrible woman in a position of power over innocent children to combat my assertions. The fact that he has been so completely brainwashed by his donors, and Umbridge by his words, truly shows how far the office of Britain's Minister for Magic has fallen.

"And if I may, I'd like to use my moment in this chair to ask for assistance from the ICW. I have plans that I'm unable to share, but my plans are limited by my resources and my small influence. In this room are some of the most influential members of the Wizarding World, with unbelievable power at their fingertips. I urge you to push your Ministries as you can. Our world is on the brink of war, and it is unavoidable.

"We, in Britain, need your assistance. I'll die for my country if necessary, and that's becoming more and more of a certainty each day. I don't ask for myself, but for the world as a whole. I'll happily give my life, but if I'm unsuccessful in ending the coming war, it will be at your borders within the year. I ask that you help me. I beg you to help me. I know what I ask is difficult, as your citizens deserve the safety you've provided them, but it will not remain if Britain falls.

"I understand your governments aren't led by dictators, and that no one can make that decision unilaterally, but I implore you to return to your Ministers and demand a response. Lines have already been drawn, and our position is weaker than it deserves."

As Harry finished, he looked around at the gathered members. He saw many friendly expressions, though there were a few who clearly disagreed. He was happy with the majority, and knew he'd done all he could in this moment.

"Thank you, Lord Potter," the prosecutor said with a polite smile. "Personally, I hope your words were heard by those that needed them, but I shall cede the rest of my time to the defense."

"Thank you, madam," he replied, returning the smile.

"Mr. Potter," the defense attorney began from his chair, his greasy demeanor mirrored by the tone of his voice. "Passionate words from a teenager. And as I look over this assembly, I'm disgusted by the effect they've had, and would like to turn you back to the matter at hand."

"Of course, sir."

"You were expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, were you not?" the wizard asked condescendingly.

"I was."

"Yet you remained in the school?"

"I did, sir."

"Your honor, that alone shows a disrespect for authority that should strike his words from this court's proceedings, but I'll continue this farce regardless."

Harry hid a grin at the man's response, knowing he was grasping at straws.

"What makes you believe you are above law and order, Mr. Potter?"

"I don't accept the premise, sir."

"What makes you think you are better than any other student who has broken the rules?" the man reworded.

"I don't accept the premise, sir."

"What makes you think that you know better than two people that have served your country for decades?"

"In an effort to shake things up, I'll say that I reject your question, based on the premise it is built upon. Do you have any appropriate questions for me?"

"And what would you, a fifteen year old boy, know about appropriate behavior in a court of law?"

"Nothing, sir," Harry admitted. "But the fact that I haven't been compelled to answer by the elected judge of the ICW proves that my responses have been deemed acceptable."

"Barrister Julian," the judge finally interrupted sternly. "Ask answerable questions or your time will be ceded, and we'll move on to my final verdict."

"You did not leave the school, correct?" the man offered, clearly frustrated.

"Correct, sir."

"And why is that?"

"Because I knew what Madam Umbridge was capable of, and refused to leave the students to her rule."

"You knew, but you didn't raise the concern to your government?"

"I've raised many concerns to my government and Minister Fudge, each of which was ignored by a man who refused to see fact. As Madam Umbridge is his employee, I was certain that he would continue to be willfully blind."

"But you didn't raise the point to allow them to correct their mistakes!"

"I'm sorry, your honor," Harry began frustratedly, hoping the woman wouldn't interrupt. "Sir, are you insinuating the man that provided the method of torture, a man that led our government for six years, would've changed his mind at a letter from some fifteen year old he already despised? Are you mad?"

"I'm suggesting there was a more appropriate response than dragging my defendants to an international court, where their reputations would be destroyed!"

"Their reputations were already cemented. The only one suffering today is your own. How much did Malfoy pay you for this? Because it wasn't enough."

"Your honor! Are you going to just let this boy say whatever he wants in an international court of law?"

"I would have said more if I sat in his place," the intimidating woman responded angrily. "Your questions show exactly how flimsy your argument is, and I'll make sure you never argue another to this court. The evidence against your clients is overwhelming, and all you are attempting is to make a name for yourself. Please sit down."

"I'm not done with my questioning, your honor," the man replied, quickly turning red.

"I'm done answering, though," Harry offered coldly. "Oh… and if you call me 'boy' one more time, I'll have my adjutant set up a meeting for us soon."

"You may step down, Lord Potter," the judge provided, clearly trying to avoid further conflict. "I'm ending this ridiculous cross examination, and you have my respect for responding as you have."

"Thank you, your honor."

Harry returned to his seat in the gallery, grabbing Daphne's hand as he settled in next to her. He was glad his part was finished, and was ready to hear the obvious guilty verdicts.

Umbridge and Fudge had taken the stand the day before, and both refused to answer any of the prosecution team's questions. Daniel explained afterwards that the pair knew the evidence was insurmountable, and answering questions about their intent would likely only lead to harsher sentencing. Harry was glad the pair stayed quiet, as their obnoxious voices would be stuck in his head for years to come as it stood.

When he asked why his testimony was scheduled last, Daniel guessed it was the defense's choice. They either wanted a bombshell revelation that would sway the court in their clients' favor, or an emotionally charged testimony that could be used to request a continuance. Harry was happy to provide neither, and added the barrister's name to his long list of people to avoid for fear of losing his lunch.

"The court has reached a verdict for both Cornelius Fudge and Dolores Umbridge," the judge called after a few minutes of deliberation with her team. The defendants stood, and Harry wished he could see the looks on their faces.

"Dolores Umbridge. On all counts of mistreatment of a minor, you are found guilty. On the counts of possession and usage of controlled dark artifacts, you are also found guilty. Your crimes against your country's children are as despicable as any that I've had the displeasure to preside over, and you only have my associate justices to thank for not being sentenced further than the fifty years in prison you are receiving.

"The fact that you still sit there, confident in your decisions, proves to me the world is better off with you locked away. You will be remanded immediately and transported to Geneva, where the first full year of your imprisonment will be spent in solitary confinement. I believe you'll find many other offenders to be as disgusted by your actions against children as I, and believe solitary will be the safest option for you. Guards, please escort this witch out of my sight."

The intimidating ICW guards stepped forward, their Captain approaching Umbridge and placing cuffs on the hands in front of her. The woman's composure broke at the movement, and she turned to cast a pleading look at Fudge beside her. When the man made no attempt to console her, she shook her head in absolute confusion. The motion must have allowed her to see Harry in the gallery, as her gaze quickly found his and turned furious.

Harry sent the horrid woman a jaunty salute, forcing her face to purple so quickly he thought she'd burst a vessel. The woman opened her mouth, clearly intent on leaving a final disgusting message, but the Captain behind silenced her with a wave of his wand before she could. Daphne squeezed his hand at the sight, and he sent her a grateful smile in response.

Umbridge was led from the courtroom, her posture showing she finally understood the fate her choices had led her to. The judge gave the courtroom a moment to settle after the removal, before turning to Fudge who remained standing shakily. Harry heard the man's wife sobbing from somewhere across the room, but he quickly shoved the sympathy the noise elicited away.

"Cornelius Fudge," the judge continued. "You have been found guilty as an accessory to the mistreatment of minors, and guilty of illegal distribution of controlled dark artifacts. I am sickened by the fact that a leader of a nation, someone that was elected by its people, would then turn around and condone the torture of its children. Your reasoning behind the decision will follow you to prison, as you did not see fit to share it, but I promise you, whatever reason would never be justified.

"The court sentences you to twenty years in prison, and the American delegation has agreed to transport you to Massachusetts to serve your time. If you survive your incarceration, any attempt at regaining an elected office will see the ICW remove Britain from its place in our ranks. You are more than unfit for leadership, and your actions and lack thereof have left your country in a dangerous position while you shall sit in safety. I'd ask if you feel it was worth it, but I'm too disgusted to hear your voice. Guards."

Harry watched as a second set of guards repeated the actions of the first, Fudge not even acknowledging his own wife as he was escorted away. He sighed a cleansing breath, glad the trials had gone the way the pair deserved. The feeling, however, was muted by the fact that the pair left his country in complete disarray, and his mood immediately plummeted at the thought of where they could have been with effective leadership.

"To those of you that have worked these cases or testified," the judge continued once the man was gone. "I thank you for your time. This court is dismissed, and I bid you all a good evening."

He kept his seat for a moment, trying to push away the pessimistic thoughts. To him, it suddenly didn't feel like enough to merely lock them away. The damage they caused, especially Fudge, would fall on others to fix, and the attempt was going to be near impossible.

Daphne quickly stood, pulling him to his feet. Her smile was bright, though Harry could see it was a bit forced. He knew she had picked up on his change in mood, and was trying to draw him out of it.

"I'm hungry," she said needily. "And I'm sick of being in this building. I demand pizza."

"She's a keeper, mate," Ron called from his seat behind them. "A generational thinker… Don't let her get away."

"Yeah," Harry replied with a forced smile, hoping he could shake his funk. "Let's get you two your pizza."

He turned towards the door, catching Albus' eye at the end of the row. The older man shot him a comforting smile, also clearly picking up on his mood.

"I'll return to Hogwarts, and leave you to your fun," the headmaster offered. "I ask that you all stay alert, and enjoy the next couple days as much as you possibly can. Harry, if I can have a moment before I go?"

Harry nodded and followed the man a few steps away, as his group collected themselves and their belongings behind him.

"I see the worry I feel reflected in your eyes, my boy," Albus began somberly. "I won't ask you to stop worrying, as it's necessary at the moment, but I will ask that you do your best to enjoy this time. Our troubles have an uncanny ability to wait on us, and you should ask yours to be patient. You'll regret it in the future if you don't."

"I know," he replied with chagrin. "It just hit me like a ton of bricks when Fudge was led away. Those two get to escape to a protected life behind bars, while the rest of us risk our lives to fix the things they helped break. It's unfair."

"It's life, Harry. You take the good with the bad, and my sincerest hope for you is that the former outweighs the latter when your time is done. Go kiss the girl that's looking at the back of your head with such concern, and enjoy your time with your friends. I have things under control this weekend, I swear it."

"Thank you, sir," he said with a true smile, forcing his worries away. "I'll see you Sunday."

"I look forward to it," the man replied, heading towards his suite of offices.

Harry took a moment to breathe, thinking of his Mum and Dad watching him right now, knowing they'd want him to enjoy his time. He steeled himself against the worry he felt at the coming struggle, and turned back to his friends. He watched Daphne's concerned look quickly turn into another forced, encouraging smile, and this time he returned it more honestly. He moved back to her side, kissing her lightly in gratitude.

"Thanks, Daph. Let's go have some fun."

Her smile turned more natural, and Harry's heart flipped at the sight.

"If you two are done," Daniel interjected sarcastically, earning a swat on the arm from his smiling wife. "We can get an early dinner and enjoy the city at night."

"Pizza!" Daphne repeated with a grin at her father.

"Yeah, yeah. I think the Pope heard your demand from the Vatican. Lead the way, Harry."

A/N: The ICW, like the Wizengamot, is tough to write, as there isn't really any info to work from. Honestly, there may be some in the Fantastic Beast films, but my brain kinda deleted those from my head. Am I the only person who's obsessed with Harry Potter, but only because of books 1-5 and fanfiction? I did enjoy the first Fantastic Beasts and Hogwarts Legacy, though.