Chapter Five: The Hearing
"Incarcerous! Expelliarmus!"
Harry easily dodged the ropes that were speeding towards him and then quickly raised a shield to deflect his opponent's follow-up spell. With a grin, he stepped to his right to fire off his rebuttal.
"Flipendo!"
The girl's eyes widened, and she hurriedly called out "Protego" just in time to block Harry's spell, but her shield was too weak and it shattered on impact. Harry waited patiently for her to gather herself, but his confident smirk betrayed any notion of chivalry on his part.
"Is that all you've got, Greengrass?"
"I'll show you, Potter — Stupefy!"
Harry lazily moved to his right and sent his own Stunner back at Daphne, a moment before her spell sailed past him. Her eyes showed a brief flicker of recognition, but before she could even think about moving, Harry's spell connected with her chest and blasted her off her feet.
"Did you have to hit her so hard, Harry?" Astoria asked him disapprovingly.
"Sorry, I really didn't mean to...at least I don't think I did."
The younger Greengrass snorted and went back to reading her book, while Harry moved to revive her sister. The two of them had been duelling and practicing spells together for the past few days, whenever the girls' parents were both away from home — which was quite often. Daphne's speed and accuracy had already improved quite a bit, but she was still nowhere near a match for Harry.
"Rennervate."
Daphne blinked and looked up at her assailant, who was holding his hand out to her.
"Bloody hell, Potter, what did you hit me with?" she groaned, allowing Harry to help her to her feet.
"Just a Stunner."
"Have your spells always been this powerful?" she asked, rubbing her chest.
"I don't know," he responded, rubbing the back of his head. "I always assumed I had a decent amount of power, or else I wouldn't be able to manage a Patronus, but I've never bothered comparing my spells to anyone else's, so I'm not really sure."
"Well, I can vouch for you, at least — that Stunner felt like I'd been hit by a Bludger."
"Have you ever actually been hit by a Bludger?"
"That's not the point!" Daphne replied snippily. "All I'm saying is that with this kind of power, you should be a lot more impressive in classes."
"I know, I've already told you I plan on working a lot harder this year."
"You'd better," she said in a low voice, her eyes flicking towards her sister.
"I get it, okay?" he hissed back at her.
"Are you two done yet?" called Astoria from the veranda — as usual, Harry and Daphne were practicing in the small, wooded clearing behind the cabin. "It's really hot today, and I think I want to go inside."
"No, not until I win one," declared Daphne.
Astoria rolled her eyes at her sister and snapped her book shut.
"Fine, you can stay out here all day if you must, but I'm going back to the house. Harry, you might want to consider just letting her win, or else you might be out here all night."
"Not a chance," he grinned as he waved good-bye.
"Finally — I thought she'd never leave," muttered Daphne. Seeing Harry's look of confusion, she gave him a sultry wink and added, "Don't worry, Harry, I have no intention of threatening your virtue."
Harry huffed and rolled his eyes.
"That's obviously not what I was concerned about. Why don'tyou want Astoria here right now?"
"Because there's something I wanted to talk to you about — privately." Daphne glanced around to make sure they were alone, before continuing. "I've been thinking," she said quietly. "What we've been working on the past few days has been good, but if we ever try to use these schoolyard spells against Death Eaters, we'll be slaughtered."
"If it weren't for schoolyard spells like Expelliarmus, I wouldn't be here right now."
"Believe me, I remember," she assured him. "I'm not suggesting that stunning and disarming aren't important, I'm just saying that if you wind up facing off against someone using Unforgivable Curses, you may want to have something better in your arsenal."
Harry's mind flashed briefly back to the graveyard, but he vigorously shook his head to clear away the thoughts.
"Okay, you might have a point. What did you have in mind?"
"Here, have a look at this," said Daphne, pulling a book bound in dark green leather from a satchel and handing it to Harry. "I took this from my father's study — I think some of the spells in here might come in handy."
"This is all Dark Magic, Daphne," remarked Harry hesitantly, as he flipped through the book.
"Magic is magic, Harry. A sufficiently powerful wizard could kill you with a Severing Charm just as easily as he could with a Killing Curse."
"Maybe, but some of these spells are pretty nasty. Look at this one — it makes all your internal organs rot from the inside. And this one here turns your brain into jelly!"
"So, pick a different one!" she hissed. "Look, Harry, my family might not exactly be paragons of virtue, but we cherish our independence and would never subjugate ourselves to anyone — You-Know-Who included. We're also an old pure-blood family with a fair amount of wealth, which means there's a good chance that the Death Eaters will eventually come calling, and I, for one, want to be prepared if any of them try anything."
"Fine, I see your point. So, what about Astoria?"
"What about her?"
"If you're that worried about Death Eaters showing up, shouldn't she learn some of this too?"
"I'd feel better if she did, but she'd refuse if I asked her," sighed Daphne. "She knows she'll never be a fighter, and you've heard her admit she has no desire to ever become one. Plus, she definitely wouldn't approve of using these sorts of spells. She's much too good for that."
"And what does that make us?" enquired Harry, somewhat testily.
Daphne gave him a hard look and answered unashamedly. "Realistic," she replied. "We're the type of people who do what needs to be done, because there's no other way...unless, of course, I was wrong about you."
Harry knew she was right. He'd been completely powerless in that graveyard, and he had no desire to ever feel that way again. Even though he felt some trepidation about the prospect of delving into the Dark Arts, Harry didn't see how he had any choice in the matter — at least, he wasn't aware of any other means to do battle against people intent on killing him. He felt a slight niggle in the back of his mind as he pictured wizards in black cloaks and white masks sending green spells at him and his friends, and coming to a decision, his expression hardened as he met Daphne's gaze.
"No, you're not wrong," declared Harry, his familiar anger welling up inside of him. "We probably should learn more powerful spells, but I won't use them unless we absolutely have to."
"Agreed," replied Daphne, her breath hitching slightly as she could actually feel the magic radiating off of him — a phenomenon which Harry hadn't seemed to even notice. She quickly took the book back from Harry to serve as a distraction while she regained her composure, and then flipped to a particular page.
"Here, try this one — the Bone Exploding Curse," she suggested, returning the open book to Harry. "A hit to the head or torso is potentially lethal, but if you catch someone on one of their limbs you can incapacitate them without killing them."
Harry studied the page for a few minutes while silently practicing the wand movements and then nodded to Daphne, who accepted the book back and took her place behind him. Next, he took a deep breath and took aim at one of the logs they had set up earlier for target practice.
"Ossum Explodere!"
Nothing happened. He tried a few more times and eventually managed a weak attempt that did little damage to the log, which only served to further frustrate him. Harry was about to give up and just try another spell when Daphne spoke up.
"Can I make a suggestion?"
Harry looked back at her expectantly but didn't respond.
"I don't have much experience with magic like this, but I know for a fact that many of the older Slytherins are fairly proficient. Something they all say is that in order to cast certain kinds of spells, you need to really mean it. Try picturing You-Know-Who, or whoever it is you want to hurt, and then try again. You'll never be able to cast the spell if you're afraid of what it does."
He thought about it for a minute and recalled Professor Moody — or, more accurately, the Death Eater disguised as Moody — saying something similar during his lecture on the Unforgivable Curses. He closed his eyes and tried to picture Voldemort, but that just sent a shiver down his spine, so instead he thought of Lucius Malfoy. He pictured the arrogant arsehole's treatment of Dobby, how he was responsible for releasing the basilisk, him and his stupid blonde hair hiding behind his Death Eater mask while he knelt down and kissed the robes of his master...if anyone deserved being punished, it was him. Harry's rage boiled to the surface as he thought back to all the taunting in the graveyard, and in his mind, he pictured the elder Malfoy in his black robes, raising his want to strike him down — it was now or never.
"Ossum Explodere!"
This time, a blazing purple streak of magic burst from Harry's wand and raced towards the log, which upon impact, violently exploded outwards in thousands of tiny pieces. Both he and Daphne would have been picking splinters out of their skin for days, had Harry not instinctively thrown up a shield at the last second.
"Merlin, Potter…" muttered Daphne, as she alternated between looking at Harry in disbelief and back at the spot where the log had been just a few moments earlier.
Harry dropped his shield and just stood there admiring the results of his handiwork for a moment, a slight grin forming on his face. He was breathing slightly heavier than usual, but there was no other way to describe it — casting the spell felt good. It was as if all the anger he'd been dealing with lately had finally found an outlet, and the relief he felt was almost euphoric.
The only thing he could compare it to would be the feeling he got when he cast his Patronus, even though he had to admit that summoning Prongs felt more pure — wholesome, even. Conversely, casting the Bone Exploding Curse felt deeply satisfying, and it gave Harry a rush of power that he wasn't used to, like he could actually feel his magic coursing throughout his body. Even though Harry still had no intention of relying on these Dark spells, he was admittedly quite keen to experience that feeling again.
"Daphne," he said, turning to his blonde counterpart. "Let's learn some magic."
oOoOoOo
It was mid-morning on the eleventh of August, and Albus Dumbledore was behind his desk at Hogwarts, busily preparing for the coming school year. He had been desperately searching for a viable candidate to fill the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, but it was looking more and more likely that the Ministry would indeed be permitted to install their own candidate.
Before he could move on to the large pile of forms awaiting his signature, an owl swooped in through his office window. Grateful for the distraction, Albus relieved the bird of the envelope it carried in its talons and pulled out the parchment contained within.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he perused the letter; so much so that he had to adjust his spectacles and read through it again from the beginning.
"My word, Harry, you certainly haven't been idle, have you?" he said with a slight chuckle.
Sitting back in his chair, the headmaster pondered the rather unexpected missive. He vaguely remembered Reginald Cartwright from his years at Hogwarts, but that had been several decades ago. Holden & Cartwright was a rather well-respected firm, and Albus couldn't help but wonder how Harry had managed to secure their services, or how he'd even learned of them in the first place.
He briefly entertained the notion of probing into the firm's other clients but immediately thought better of it. No, instead he would meet with Harry and his new solicitor at the appointed time and see what he could learn from there. If nothing else, Albus suspected that the hearing was unlikely to go quite the way Cornelius expected.
oOoOoOo
Harry had a feeling he wasn't going to get much sleep that night.
It was the eve of his hearing, and he couldn't seem to stop his mind from fixating on every potential negative outcome. While his solicitor had assured him that the Ministry lacked the legal authority to expel Hogwarts students, that didn't mean they still wouldn't snap his wand or chuck him in Azkaban. Either scenario, of course, would make finishing his schooling rather difficult.
Perhaps he would not have been so worried, had he not already been convinced that the Ministry was specifically targeting him. Whether it was being done for Lord Voldemort's benefit or simply to silence Harry for the Ministry's own convenience wasn't immediately relevant — all Harry knew that he was facing an uphill battle. He couldn't even imagine how much more nervous he would be if he didn't have a solicitor to rely on during the hearing, so Harry definitely felt he would owe Astoria a huge debt of gratitude if he managed to get out of his predicament.
Harry chuckled to himself as he laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He had come to know both Greengrass sisters a little better over the past week, and as much as they may have resembled one another physically, they could hardly be any more different.
Daphne could be pretentious and sarcastic, but she was obviously intelligent and undoubtedly goal-oriented. She worked incredibly hard during their daily practice sessions and had improved tremendously, but she wasn't the only one. In fact, she seemed frustrated that Harry was improving at a similar pace, even though he had already been a much more capable duellist from the beginning. All in all, Harry had quite enjoyed their time training together, even if he was a little concerned about how easily Dark Magic seemed to come to him.
He had been hesitant to try the spells at first, but there was no denying that he had a talent for them. Having been plagued by feelings of anger and resentment all summer, figuring out that he could channel those emotions into his spells had been a revelation. Practicing the Dark spells gave him a feeling of release he didn't even realise he was missing — the only problem was that the feeling was fleeting, and his anger would always return a short time later.
Oddly enough, he seemed to be granted a rare reprieve from his near-constant grumpiness whenever he and Astoria hung out together. Simply put, it was almost impossible for Harry to be in a bad mood around her. Unlike her sister, she hadn't been the slightest bit interested in honing her fighting skills. Instead, she used her time with Harry get to know him better, talk about their plans for the year, teach him more about the magical world, and simply keep his spirits up.
Indeed, Daphne and Astoria were opposites in many ways, but the one thing that united them was their devotion to one another. Both sisters had different perspectives and priorities in life, but it was obvious that each would go to the ends of the earth for the other.
In any case, while the circumstances that brought them together were rather unfortunate, he now considered both girls friends — even if Daphne made it clear that she wouldn't publicly acknowledge him once they got back to Hogwarts, and that she expected the same from him. To do otherwise as a member of Slytherin House would cause her more trouble than she was willing to endure.
Rolling over on his side, Harry tried to think of anything other than the hearing, but found little success. To make matters worse, it seemed like every time he found himself on the verge of sleep, he would feel a twinge of pain in his scar, waking him up and starting the cycle over again. It was just shy of six o'clock in the morning when he finally gave it up as a bad job and decided to get up and get dressed, making sure to wear the charcoal-grey formal robes that Astoria had purchased for the occasion.
He was in the middle of another feeble attempt to make his hair lay flat when he heard the front door of the cabin opening. Gripping his wand, Harry carefully stepped out into the hallway and peered around the corner, immediately relaxing once he recognised his visitor.
"Astoria?" he asked, straightening up and walking out into the sitting room to greet her. She looked almost as tired as Harry felt. Her eyes looked heavy, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail — something Harry hadn't seen her do previously.
"Good morning, Harry."
"Is something wrong? I thought you were going to meet me at the door, like last time."
"I was, but I wanted to wish you luck before your hearing, so I figured I'd come down and walk with you back up to the house."
"Oh — well, thanks. I think I'm as ready as I'm going to be, so I was about to head up."
Astoria nodded sleepily, so Harry put on his Invisibility Cloak and the two of them started making their way up to the house. After walking in silence for a few minutes, Harry picked up on the fact that Astoria had been unusually quiet since she'd arrived at the cabin.
"Is something wrong?"
"No," she answered, fidgeting with the sleeve of her dress. "I'm just really nervous for you. To be honest, I barely even slept last night. How are you so calm?"
"Believe me, I'm not," he replied. "I don't think I slept at all, and I've been constantly running through every worst-case scenario in my mind."
"I keep telling myself that they really don't have a case against you. The only reason I'm worried is because of your theory that the Ministry are targeting you specifically."
"Believe me, I know what you mean," nodded Harry, momentarily forgetting he was invisible. "That's why I'm really glad you found a solicitor for me. I really do owe you."
"You don't owe me anything, Harry," she replied, blushing slightly. Changing the subject, she asked, "Are you planning on coming back here afterwards?"
"I'd like to, if that's all right with you. I'm just not sure what's going to happen."
"If you can't for some reason, promise me you'll write and let me know you're okay?"
"Of course I will," said Harry reassuringly. "I already told Hedwig to come find me if I don't come back today, but I'm not sure how long that will take her. I did leave the rest of my stuff in the cabin; I didn't think I should bring it all with me to the Ministry."
"That's okay, I'll get everything to you if needed." She turned to look at him (or where she assumed he was) with an amused smirk on her face. "Your new clothes do look really good on you; it'd be a shame to let them go to waste."
Harry ignored the compliment, feeling glad he was currently invisible so she couldn't see his embarrassed expression. Instead, he replied, "I'm sure Daphne wouldn't mind having access to my Firebolt for a bit longer, too. I just hope she'll actually give it back to me at some point."
"Seeing as how she still can't beat you in a duel, I'm sure that won't be a problem," laughed Astoria, just as they were arriving at the entrance to the rose garden.
They quietly made their way through the flower-lined paths, past the fountain, finally arriving at the side entrance of the house. This time, Harry was aware he could perform magic without the Ministry finding out, so he took the extra step of silencing his feet so that his footsteps wouldn't echo inside the house. Astoria went up the stairs first and opened the door for Harry to pass through, and then stepped inside and closed the door behind her. They had only made it partway down the hallway when a voice called out, causing both of them to freeze in their tracks.
"Astoria? What are you doing down here so early?"
"Father! You startled me!"
"Apologies, dear daughter," replied Mr. Greengrass. "Though my question remains. Is there any particular reason why you're up and about this early in the morning?"
Harry remained perfectly still, trying not to breath even though his heart was pounding in his chest. Mr. Greengrass was a tall, broad-shouldered man who wore his brown hair parted to the side, along with a neatly trimmed beard. He was wearing expensive looking robes of a dark navy blue, which were trimmed with silver around the cuffs. Thankfully, he didn't appear angry, although he was looking intently at his daughter as he awaited her answer.
"Astoria?"
"Oh! Sorry, I — I woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep, so I decided to take a stroll through the rose garden."
"I see," he replied, seemingly satisfied with her explanation. "Well, I'm expected to attend a meeting of the Wizengamot in just over an hour. Would you care to join me for breakfast before I go?"
"The Wizengamot? Why, has something happened?"
"No, nothing you need concern yourself with," he answered kindly. "There's a trial of some sort today. Supposedly it's to do with a rather serious breach of the Statute of Secrecy, but that's all they've told us."
Astoria's eyes bulged slightly at the news, and it took all her willpower not to glance over at where she believed Harry was standing.
"That does sound rather...interesting," she replied carefully. "Does this sort of thing happen often?"
"No, not at all," her father responded, a thoughtful scowl forming on his face. "To be honest, I haven't had to sit a full trial in quite some time. The worst part is that I've only just learned that the time has changed. It was originally supposed to be at nine, but they've moved it up an hour for some reason, and now I barely have time to eat breakfast. So, shall we?"
"Yes, of course," agreed Astoria, taking her father's arm and allowing him to escort her down the hallway.
As they were walking, she quickly held out her other hand and gave a subtle gesture for Harry to follow. After allowing them to move a respectable distance away, he started retracing his steps from before and eventually found the family's receiving room. Harry slipped into the room and gently closed the door behind him, then took a handful of floo power from the pot and whispered, "Holden and Cartwright," as he tossed the powder into the fire.
The floo roared to life, the green flames illuminating the well-appointed room, and Harry took a deep breath and stepped through. He kept his eyes tightly shut in attempt to counteract the spinning sensation, gingerly putting one foot forward when he reached his destination. He stumbled slightly exiting the floo, but it was definitely far from his worst attempt.
"Ah, Mr. Potter, right on time."
"Good morning, Mr. Cartwright," responded Harry, shaking the man's hand.
"I've prepared your defence as we've discussed. I'm reasonably confident that you will be fully exonerated; the law is clearly on your side, after all."
"That's good to hear, sir, but there is something I think you should know." At the solicitor's inquisitive look, he continued, "I've just overheard Mr. Greengrass talking about the Wizengamot holding a trial this morning for a Statute of Secrecy breach. He didn't mention me specifically, but it doesn't feel like a coincidence. He also mentioned that the time was moved up from nine o'clock to eight."
A brief look of concern flitted across the solicitor's face.
"Step into my office, Mr. Potter."
Harry joined Mr. Cartwright in his office and recounted everything he could remember about the brief conversation between Astoria and her father. When he was done, the solicitor leaned back his chair and repeatedly smoothed his moustache with a contemplative look on his face.
"I agree that the trial he referenced likely pertains to you. Holding a full trial in front of the Wizengamot is highly unusual for such a pedestrian offence, which lends credence to your theory that there are some in the Ministry who bear you ill will. Even the sudden change of time could be a tactic of some sort. Be that as it may, this does not change the facts of the case and I do not believe a change in strategy is required."
Harry nodded his understanding, and then Mr. Cartwright stood up and gestured for him to do the same.
"I know you wished to avoid this, but I've asked Albus Dumbledore to meet us in the Ministry Atrium at half past seven," he informed Harry. "His reputation may have taken a few hits in the press as of late, but the man still holds considerable sway with a sizeable portion of our population. I would be surprised if he wasn't already planning on attending, so I believe it's best for us to be on the same page."
Harry's shoulders sagged a bit, but he resignedly nodded his agreement. He wasn't looking forward to the headmaster's lecture on safety and listening to adults, but he knew he couldn't avoid the man forever. One thing Harry knew for sure was that he wasn't going to let Dumbledore send him back to the Dursleys — not without a fight.
Mr. Cartwright led Harry to the floo, and this time he barely even stumbled as he made his exit. Celebrating internally at his ever-improving floo skills, Harry brushed the soot off his robes and took a good look around at the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.
The fireplace they had just exited was only one of many, and they were all heavily gilded and ornate, making a striking contrast to the dark wooden panelling of the surrounding walls. The Ministry was quite busy at that hour, with many witches and wizards entering and exiting via floo or making their way down the polished wood floors, past the large fountain, and towards the golden gates marking the end of the hall.
Harry glanced up at the ceiling and stared transfixed for a moment. It was painted a bright peacock-blue and was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that moved and changed, although Harry wasn't able to decipher their meaning. He had just stepped forward to try and get a closer look at the large fountain he saw when his attention was pulled elsewhere.
"Ah, Harry, Reginald — I am delighted to see that you both are well."
"Professor Dumbledore," they both returned in unison, drawing an amused look from the Hogwarts headmaster.
"Harry, I see that you have done some shopping. I must say, your new robes are quite splendid — fashionable as well, if somewhat formal for my taste," the headmaster remarked brightly, contrasting Harry's charcoal-grey robes with his own, which were sky-blue with bright golden suns embroidered all over.
Even though he had been quite irritated with the headmaster as of late, Dumbledore's icebreaker was good enough to draw a chuckle from Harry — which only annoyed the teen further. He was still trying to come up with a snappy retort when Dumbledore leaned in and spoke to him quietly.
"Harry, I understand that you are likely upset with me — no doubt about a great many things. I ask that at the conclusion of your hearing, you allow me a chance to explain. I am afraid we have much to discuss, and a proper conversation between us is long overdue."
Having been expecting a chastising lecture, Harry was decidedly wrong-footed by Professor Dumbledore's conciliatory tone and could do nothing but nod in reply.
"Professor, perhaps we should find a place to talk privately. There have been some new developments," interjected Mr. Cartwright.
"Indeed," concurred the older man, and after a quick stop at the security desk they found an empty conference room, where Mr. Cartwright caught the headmaster up on that morning's revelations.
"I see," said Professor Dumbledore sadly. "I must apologise, Harry, for I fear that much of the way the Ministry has conducted themselves with regards to you is due to certain actions on my part." Holding up his hand to forestall arguments, he continued, "My insistence that Lord Voldemort returned has not been well received by the Minister and certain elements of our society, as I am sure you already know, if you have been reading the Daily Prophet."
"I have," confirmed Harry.
"Well, then I am sure you are aware that both of us have been frequently disparaged in the press. Unfortunately, since you were the only witness to Lord Voldemort's return — apart from his Death Eaters, of course — the Ministry has been working hard to ensure that nobody will believe your story."
"I've noticed," he replied through gritted teeth.
"I hate to interrupt, but with the hearing being moved to eight o'clock, we really don't have much time," said Mr. Cartwright.
"My apologies," replied the headmaster, gesturing for Mr. Cartwright to continue.
"The law is on Mr. Potter's side, so our strategy will be to rely on the facts of the case. We must avoid at all costs having this proceeding turn into a referendum on yourself and the status of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," the solicitor explained to Dumbledore. "Regardless of what is going on in the world at large, our focus today is proving Mr. Potter's innocence."
"I could not agree more," concurred Dumbledore. "In fact, I have a witness who may be of assistance. Arabella Figg, a squib who resides in Harry's neighbourhood, happened to observe the dementors as they pursued Harry's cousin."
"Wait, Mrs. Figg?" Harry blurted out. "Are you saying that the lady who's lived next door for as long as I can remember has known about magic this whole time and never said anything?"
"Yes, Harry," admitted Professor Dumbledore. "We shall speak more on this later, but for now, just know that she is ready and willing to support you in your defence."
"Her testimony could certainly prove useful," conceded Mr. Cartwright.
"I thought as much," replied Dumbledore. "I am afraid that is the only assistance I am able to provide. I had intended to represent Harry myself, but seeing as how you are here to serve in that capacity, I shall heed your advice and refrain from becoming involved in the proceedings. Now," continued the headmaster, standing up from his chair. "If this hearing is to be conducted in front of the Wizengamot, I believe we must also assume a change in venue. Knowing Cornelius as I do, I suspect we should make our way down to the old courtrooms."
"My word, do you honestly believe they would go that far?"
"I am afraid so, Reginald. The Minister has become rather obsessed with the idea that I am conspiring against him and am using Harry to do so. I suspect that things shall only get worse from here."
It was on that ominous note that Mr. Cartwright led Harry out of the conference room and over to the lifts, while Professor Dumbledore went off to meet Mrs. Figg and escort her. After a brief ride, an emotionless female voice announced their floor as the 'Department of Mysteries', and they exited the lift and headed down a black-tiled corridor that gave Harry a strong sense of déjà vu.
His attention was particularly focused on the unadorned black door at the very end of the corridor, but before he could ask about it, Harry found himself being led down another flight of steps leading to a different corridor — this one lined with rough stone walls and lit by torchlight, giving off a dungeon-like feel that only people like Snape would appreciate.
"Where are we?" asked Harry.
"This is one of the oldest parts of the Ministry. It's where the old courtrooms and holding cells are located. This door here," explained Mr. Cartwright, indicating a heavy wooden door fitted with iron hardware, "is old Courtroom Ten, which is the only one large enough to seat the entire Wizengamot. If Professor Dumbledore is correct — and he usually is — this is where they will have moved your hearing."
Mr. Cartwright opened the door slightly and peeked inside. He turned back and nodded to Harry. "Remember, the law is on your side," he said quietly. "I shall do most of the talking. Don't answer their questions unless I say so, and whatever you do, do not mention the Dark Lord."
Harry took a deep breath, his nerves now really starting to set in. The solicitor opened the door the rest of the way and led Harry into the room, the sight of which made Harry gasp in recognition. The dark stone walls and rows of benches seemed somewhat familiar, but it was the chair in the centre of the room that really got his attention. Harry had once seen Igor Karkaroff chained to that very same chair, only it was in a memory — specifically, Professor Dumbledore's memories of the Death Eater trials, which Harry had witnessed in the headmaster's Pensieve the year before.
"Mr. Potter, how nice of you to join us," a cold male voice rang out from across the courtroom.
"I beg your pardon, but it seems as though you are insinuating that Mr. Potter is late," Mr. Cartwright responded flatly. "We were under the impression that these proceedings were to begin at eight o'clock sharp. It is not yet eight, so Mr. Potter is perfectly on time — no small feat, given that the starting time was changed without his receiving proper notification."
"And who are you?" bristled the man, who Harry now recognised as the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge himself.
"Reginald Cartwright, of the legal firm Holden & Cartwright. I will be representing Mr. Potter in these proceedings."
"Oho, so Mr. Potter saw the charges and decided he needed help from a solicitor," returned Fudge pompously.
"As is the right of all citizens," Mr. Cartwright replied shortly, generating a few whispers of agreement from the crowd.
The initial shock of seeing the old courtroom having worn off, Harry took a good look around and saw that the benches were filled with people — at least fifty of them — and they were all wearing identical plum-coloured robes with an intricate silver W stitched onto the chest. The Minister was positioned in the centre of a higher bench at the far end of the circular room, flanked by a grey-haired witch with a monocle on one side and another witch on the other, the latter sitting so far back on the bench that her face was obscured by shadow.
"Very well. Take a seat Mr. Potter, and we shall begin," began Fudge, but Mr. Cartwright almost immediately interrupted.
"Before we begin, Minister, I must object to the use of this chair for my client. Unlike many of this chair's former occupants, Mr. Potter is not a violent criminal. He is simply a teenage boy charged with using magic outside of school."
Before anyone could protest, Mr. Cartwright took out his wand and conjured a simple wooden table with two chairs, directing Harry to take a seat in one before occupying the other.
"Yes, yes, very well," said Fudge impatiently, his face reddening slightly before launching into the opening comments of the hearing.
"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August 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 Ignatius Weasley."
Harry's eyes darted to the end of the bench at the mention of Ron's older brother.
"Why on earth is Percy here?" thought Harry to himself. Last he'd heard, Percy was working in the Department of International Magical Cooperation.
Fudge recited the full charges for the court, reading from a piece of parchment laid in front of him before turning his gaze on Harry.
"You are Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?"
"Yes," responded Harry, after receiving a nod from Mr. Cartwright.
"And did you receive an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago?"
"Mr. Potter did receive such a warning," Mr. Cartwright interjected before Harry could speak. "However, he denies having performed the magic that led to said warning."
"Oh?" Fudge replied airily. "There are no other wizards or witches living in that area, of that much I am certain. So, who exactly does Mr. Potter say cast the Hover Charm in question?"
"The magic was cast by a house-elf called Dobby."
"A house-elf! In a muggle house? Preposterous!" blustered Fudge. "We are wasting time listening to the boy's poppycock stories."
"As unusual as it may sound, I assure you it is true," Mr. Cartwright returned evenly. "The house-elf in question is currently in the employ of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and is willing to provide his testimony, if needed."
"I — I don't have time for this. Mr. Potter, did you, or did you not cast both the Wand-Lighting and Patronus Charms on the night in question, and in front of muggles, no less?"
"Yes, but —"
"You produced a fully-fledged Patronus?" interrupted the monocled witch in a booming voice.
"Yes — my Patronus is a stag," explained Harry. "Professor Lupin taught me how in my third year, when the Ministry stationed all the dementors at Hogwarts."
"In your third year?" pressed Madam Bones. At Harry's nod of confirmation, she continued, "That is quite an achievement, Mr. Potter. A fully corporeal Patronus at that age is most impressive."
"The impressiveness of the magic is not the point," interrupted Fudge, trying to regain control of the conversation. "In fact, I'd say that makes the offence even more severe, given that the boy cast the spell in front of muggles!"
"Point of order," Mr. Cartwright broke in. "We would like to clarify for the record that the only known muggle witnesses to the magic Mr. Potter performed that night were his relatives, who also reside at number four, Privet Drive. As they were already aware of the existence of magic, the charge of violating section thirteen of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy is invalid — unless the Ministry can produce positive confirmation that additional muggles were involved, such as official records of Obliviator involvement."
"Minister?" queried Madam Bones, after a few moments where the only sounds were those of Fudge shuffling his papers and whispering to the witch on his opposite side.
"We — the Ministry is unable to produce such records at this time."
"Then is Mr. Cartwright not correct in stating that the Statute of Secrecy charge should not apply?"
"Fine," blustered Fudge. "The second charge is dropped, but that still leaves us with the clear violation of the Underage Sorcery decree. Potter already admitted to casting the spells, and I for one believe that's good enough for a conviction."
"I object, Minister," said the solicitor, again intervening before things could get out of hand. "I must point out that the accused has not yet been permitted to offer his defence, nor have the interrogators even bothered to ask why the spells in question were used in the first place."
"I'm not interested in listening to the boy's cock-and-bull stories!" shouted Fudge.
"If that is the case, Minister, then why are you leading these proceedings in the first place? You must admit that the Minister for Magic personally overseeing such a thing is highly irregular, as is holding a full criminal trial in front of the Wizengamot for what amounts to a simple case of underage magic. And let us not forget the holding of said trial in this very courtroom, which is typically reserved for the worst criminals in our society!"
There was some muttering among the gathered witches and wizards, some of whom were beginning to look somewhat uncomfortable with the situation. The vein in Fudge's forehead looked about ready to pop, but before he could retort, the witch to the right of him leaned forward just enough to allow Harry to get a better look at her.
She had to be one of the most unattractive women Harry had ever seen. She was exceptionally pale with flabby jowls that reminded Harry somewhat of Fang, Hagrid's trusty boarhound. Her mouth was exceptionally wide, which combined with her bulging eyes and squat build gave her the appearance of an overlarge toad. As unappealing as Harry found her physical appearance, far worse was the general air of unpleasantness she seemed to give off. He couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was, but it went well beyond her cold eyes and leering expression.
"Hem, hem," said the witch.
"The Chair recognises Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister," smirked Fudge.
"Excuse me, Mister...Cartwright, is it?" the toad-like woman began in her simpering, girlish voice. "I must be mistaken, because it sounded to me as if you were accusing the Ministry of something."
"I've done nothing of the sort," countered the solicitor. "I merely made the observation that in my nearly five decades of practicing law, never before have I encountered so many abnormalities within a single case. I had hoped to let the facts of the case speak for themselves, but it has become obvious that I was being overly optimistic."
More muttering and whispers could be heard as Mr. Cartwright reached into his briefcase and pulled out a familiar sheet of parchment.
"I have in my hands the letter sent by the Improper Use of Magic Office mere minutes after Mr. Potter cast his charms," he said, using used his wand to duplicate the letter several times over and float the copies amongst the Wizengamot members. "As you can see, the letter clearly states that Mr. Potter had been expelled from Hogwarts — an action for which the Ministry lacks the legal authority — while also informing my client that officials were coming to destroy his wand, before charges had even been successfully proven — another clear violation of the very laws our Ministry are charged to uphold.
"And now," he continued, "we see the Chair of this proceeding trying exceptionally hard to move towards a conviction, without even letting the accused tell his side of the story. Surely, the esteemed members of the Wizengamot recognise how unusually aggressive the Ministry has been in their pursuit of charges against Mr. Potter."
There was more grumbling from the assembled witches and wizards, and Madam Bones was peering suspiciously at Fudge, whose face was now beet red. His undersecretary, however, was not deterred in the slightest.
"Tell me, Mr. Cartwright, why would the Ministry have an agenda with Harry Potter?" she asked with feigned innocence, the dangerous glint in her eye betraying her true intentions. "Surely you have a theory you can share with us?"
"I have no intention of assigning motivation to the Ministry's actions. On the contrary, I believe the onus is on those responsible within the Ministry to explain their actions in regard to this case. Perhaps we should start with Madam Hopkirk and learn exactly how this unlawful letter came to be?"
Umbridge's eyes bulged even larger at the suggestion, but she was spared a response by Fudge's continued blustering.
"I do not have time for this! Fine — Mr. Potter, please tell us why you felt the need to use magic on the night of the second of August!"
At Mr. Cartwright's encouragement, Harry launched into an explanation about his cousin's terrifying encounter, the pair of dementors that broke into the house, and how his uncle knocked his wand out of his hand. He went on to explain how he had somehow performed a wandless Summoning Charm — which Harry suddenly realised wasn't included in the Ministry's notice — and then, of course, his subsequent casting of the Wand-Lighting and Patronus Charms to deal with the dementors.
"You see!" bellowed Fudge gleefully at the conclusion of Harry's tale. "Dementors! In Little Whinging! The boy obviously concocted this wild fabrication to get himself out of trouble. Dementors are invisible to muggles, you see, so there wouldn't be any other witnesses! Convenient, eh?"
"Actually, Minister, we do have another individual who can testify to the presence of dementors in Mr. Potter's neighbourhood that night," countered Mr. Cartwright. "The Defence calls Arabella Figg as witness. If I am not mistaken, she should be waiting just outside."
Fudge sat back down, seething, and ordered Percy to go out into the hallway and retrieve Mrs. Figg. While they were waiting, Madam Bones took the opportunity to ask Harry a few questions of her own.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but did you say that you summoned your own wand?"
"Yes, it was too dark to see where I'd dropped it and that was all I could think of."
"So, you performed the Summoning Charm, without a wand, which successfully returned your wand to your own hand?"
"Yes, that's correct."
"And had you done this sort of thing before?"
"No, at least not that I can remember. I was pretty desperate at the time."
"How utterly fascinating," remarked Madam Bones as she leaned forward slightly, as if to get a better look at Harry. Several of the other Wizengamot members started looking at him oddly too, but fortunately, Harry was spared further examination by the opening of the courtroom door.
A rather agitated Percy Weasley re-entered the courtroom along with Mrs. Figg, who appeared visibly nervous. Strolling in behind them was Albus Dumbledore, who cut a rather impressive figure despite his age and flamboyant attire.
"Ah, I should've known you were tied up in all this, Dumbledore," scowled Fudge.
"I am sorry to disappoint you, Cornelius, but I must admit that I have played no part in Harry's defence. He has my full confidence, of course, but I am merely here today to act as Mrs. Figg's escort."
"Very well, then," said the Minister, gesturing for the solicitor to get on with it.
Mr. Cartwright expertly guided Mrs. Figg through her testimony, as she recounted how she saw the dementors pursuing Dudley from afar before eventually descending on Privet Drive. Harry was a bit worried in the beginning because her nervous delivery didn't exactly help her to sound convincing, but her confidence grew as she told her story, and she was even able to sufficiently answer Madam Bones's follow-up questions.
Predictably, Fudge did not seem convinced, but many others seemed satisfied with the explanation. The Minister made one last attempt to explain the impossibility of the story, but he was tripped up when Dumbledore made the point that if dementors were indeed present, as Mrs. Figg had testified, then they were either operating outside of Ministry control or were ordered there by someone within the Ministry itself — a fact that Harry had surmised from the very beginning.
After a few more exchanges, Mr. Cartwright stood up and reclaimed control of the conversation by addressing the court.
"The facts of the case are clear. On the night of the second of August, two dementors attacked Mr. Potter in his own home. We have provided an eyewitness who attested to the presence of the dementors in the neighbourhood. The use of the Patronus Charm in the face of a dementor attack is clearly one of the exceptional circumstances described in article seven of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction for Underage Sorcery, as is Mr. Potter's described use of the Summoning and Wand-Lighting Charms. We now await your judgment."
Mr. Cartwright sat back down and patted Harry on the back.
"Those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?" called out Madam Bones in her booming voice.
Harry's heart thumped rapidly in his chest as he looked around the room. It looked like the majority of the Wizengamot had their hands in the air, but he couldn't be certain. He tried to take a quick count, but Madam Bones had already moved on.
"And those in favour of conviction?"
Fudge and those sitting nearest to him raised their hands, as did a handful of others, but nowhere close to as many who had voted in favour of Harry. The Minister looked like he had swallowed something distasteful, and he shook his head in indignant resignation as he delivered the verdict.
"Very well, very well...cleared of all charges."
Harry exhaled deeply and slumped in his chair, feeling like a ten-tonne weight had been lifted off his chest. Confirmation of his theory that the dementors were sent by either Voldemort or the Ministry put a bit of a damper on his mood, but he decided he'd worry about that later. Today, he was going to celebrate this small victory and thank Astoria Greengrass for finding him such a competent solicitor.