Hermione really hadn't expected a summons to trial for a violation of the decree for underage sorcery. The law had only recently been introduced in 18th century Germany and had rarely factored in Hermione's modern life, considering how little time she spent outside a magical residence. She'd assumed that the violation would be explained by the presence of the dementors as a life threatening circumstance; supported by a number of witnesses. If not, she'd at least assumed that the ministry would be too embarrassed by the clear presence of dementors where they shouldn't be to pursue her. It seemed someone in power – whether Umbridge, Dumbledore or Alice, was keen to see her further discredited. It was likely that the summons would be mentioned in the papers as evidence to her dangerous attention seeking and then the actual findings of the trial ignored.

In a perfect world, Hermione would have summoned Gellert to defend her again and made sure that even the most heavily bribed and censored reporter wouldn't have missed out on publishing the spectacle but Alice's manipulations in the ICW had cut off that avenue before it could even begin. The decision had been made instead to keep their heads down and hope that the publicity joined the rest under the rug, ready to be aired when Voldemort finally revealed himself.

Then, on the night before the trial an owl arrived from Blaise Zabini requesting a meeting. The usually quiet Slytherin had already proven that he had valuable contacts and Hermione was certain that he wouldn't have contacted her unless it was important. She responded, inviting him over at his earliest convenience. He arrived just as the usual communal dinner was coming to a close, the many inhabitants of the city flooding out of the great hall after a show of evening entertainment by the ghosts. An elf found Hermione, informing her that Zabini had arrived and asking where she'd like to meet him.

It took the other wizard nearly fifteen minutes to be led into her office by a guardian; she knew he'd been taken on a somewhat circuitous route designed to give her time to settle into her chair without looking like she'd rushed to get there. He bowed slightly when he entered; then slipped into the offered chair.

'What did you need?' Hermione asked, once the pleasantries had been completed. 'It must be urgent for you to call at night?'

'In a manner.' Zabini lifted a leather briefcase. Hermione didn't doubt that it had already been checked by the guardians and house elves and Zabini had asked to join her court, but years of conflict and many assassination attempts had made her wary. She brushed over it with her magic, surprised to find that it appeared to be entirely muggle. There wasn't even an extension charm on the inside. She barely restrained herself from peering around the lid to see what her mysterious classmate had brought.

She was disappointed, initially, when he handed her several scrolls. They were all crisp and new so unlikely to hold forgotten knowledge or rituals. She opened the first, discovering a list of names, dates and signatures. It had been copied – the writing was all in the same hand and the signatures were only recognisable as such because of the changes in size. There was no heading or explanation, but the dates were all recent.

'These are the ministry records of contact with Azkaban prison; every guard, every shift, every visitor and official since June.' Zabini explained, 'courtesy of the Order of the Triskelion.'

Hermione had to fight to hide how impressed she was; she'd only floated the idea to him six days ago. If one considered the flight time of their owls and the time it would have taken to create the copy, the network must have acted almost instantly.

'You will also find the floo records for the Headmaster's office.' Zabini handed her another scroll, this one much shorter. This time, Hermione did allow surprise to lift an eyebrow. 'Hogwarts headmaster is technically a public office. The floo is monitored, as are the floos of every department head. Accessing those records can be tricky, of course… but as I said, I have the right connections.'

This time, Hermione did allow her admiration to show. To do anything else at this point would be insulting and it was more than earned. She scanned down the scroll quickly, finding a name that had been circled in purple ink. Zabini smirked as she unrolled each of the Azkaban scrolls, eventually coming across the same name, again highlighted in purple.

'An official in the Azkaban administrative division.' Zabini explained, offering her a final two pages. The first was a copy of the wizengamot schedule, the second a more recent version of the came document. Highlighted in the same purple ink was a custody battle, to be reviewed by a separate wizengamot committee. It had been moved forwards by nearly a month.

'You think Dumbledore ordered the attack?' Hermione asked, fury igniting low in her gut. She hadn't thought they were on the same side, not with their radically opposed beliefs, but she'd thought they were at least temporarily allied against The Ministry and Voldemort.

'I'm not certain.' Zabini said meaningfully, shutting his briefcase with a click and leaning back in his chair. Hermione's mind flew across the chess board of the war – only it was many times more complex than a simple game of two sides and Hermione refused to consider herself a chessmaster. She was a queen, playing alongside her own pieces.

'Thank you.' She eventually said, flicking her fingers towards the guardians at the door. The snapped to attention, marching across the room towards one of the few pieces of furniture in the room. Hermione was perfectly capable of opening the massive chest herself, of course, but she could hardly manage it whilst looking graceful in her dress. The guardians managed it easily, allowing her to reach for the beautifully crafted box that the goblins had given as their first gift to her. All but two rings remained cushioned within and Hermione kept that carefully hidden as she selected one for Zabini; it wouldn't do for him to realise she had yet to give rings to anyone on the court but Lord Nott. It was a situation she intended to rectify as soon as possible.

He looked intrigued by the time she turned back, having chosen a bold ring with very geometric runic patterns and a very thick, masculine band. Anything smaller would be lost among his collection of family rings and Hermione had no intention of ever being lost.

She explained to him what it was as she presented the item; an emergency portkey into Avalon, a ward key which connected to a townhouse in the city and a set of rooms in the castle and a sign of the members of her court. Zabini seemed delighted that she'd upheld her end of their bargain so completely and she was confident that his surprisingly valuable connections would remain accessible to her in the future when he left to find his rooms alongside a guardian.

She sent the other guardian for those of her court who were available in the castle at such short notice – Theo and his father, Harry and Sirius, Anneken and Berg. They arrived to quickly to have been doing anything except waiting for her to call them after her unexpected late night meeting. She passed around the pieces of paper wordlessly and watched as each person took in the presented information; Thoros Nott disapproved but wasn't unsurprised. He shook his head and sighed. Theo was only briefly angry but he moved quickly onto the political implications, head bowed as he discussed the way the news might alter the conduct of the trial. Berg and Anneken were both hard to read but Hermione was certain she could see disappointment in both of them – they were not Dumbledore's fans, but a party that had been allies by circumstance was better than another enemy in an increasingly hostile world. Sirius was resigned. He had once been one of Dumbledore's most avid supporters but his faith peeled away like a cracked lacquer off brass. Harry was the most openly upset, in his predictably brash Gryffindor manner. He swore vengeance on the professor and declared that they should expose the evidence in front of the wizengamot.

'I agree.' Hermione announced. The political powerhouses of her court instantly looked to her and she voiced something else that had occurred to her in the period between Zabini's departure and their arrival.

'The ministry didn't order this and they certainly wouldn't want it to get out that dementors are roaming around now, so they can't have ordered the trial; it's too much bad press for them and not enough for me. This trial was forced through by the chief warlock to give him an excuse to issue an official caution – we'd be under surveillance by a ministry official until we returned to school, and I'd bet my wand that official would be one of his Order.'

'It would be within his powers – the trial and the official caution.' Lord Nott admitted, nodding along to her train of thought grimly.

'I'd bet Fudge is furious.' Sirius had seen where she was going, 'these papers would be more than enough for him to order an inquiry. It would save him some face and cost Dumbledore his position as chief warlock, at least. The only cost would be a small win for you.'

'Having fewer enemies in positions of power would not be inadvisable.' Anneken concurred with a smile.

'Unless it gave Voldemort a chance to get one of his men in.'

'Or us to get one of ours.' Every eye turned to Berg, who was usually quiet at these meetings. 'Black could nominate Thoros. Voldemort might order his allies to back the bid as well, if he thought that we were willing to do the legwork to get someone he believes is his in.'

There was a surprised silence, then Hermione felt a wicked grin creep across her lips.

'Oh, I do like it. Would Voldemort go for it, Lord Nott?'

'Yes.' Lord Nott didn't sound like he doubted it for a moment. 'The Dark Lord would delight in the thought that you had rewarded me for my loyalty to you whilst I reported to him.'

'It would be a bold move.' Anneken commented into the silence. A sort of electric excitement seemed to have ignited in the room, crackling between everyone present and lighting their eyes as if from within.

'We'll do it.' Hermione decided after no objections were raised.

If Hermione had had any reservations about the plan, they would have dissolved by the time the trial actually began the next morning. Hermione was awoken when the sun was still struggling against the morning mist, casting Morgana's tower in silver grey. Flighty had come to deliver a letter, delivered by a regular owl and only spotted by the elf by chance, from the ministry. It announced that the trial had been pushed forwards by an hour and changed to a smaller courtroom in the bowels of the ministry. Whether to avoid reporters or an attempt to have her miss the trial entirely, Hermione didn't know – either were viable options for both the ministry and Dumbledore.

Fortunately, Gorlois elves were nothing if not efficient. Hermione was dressed and her hair done in a couple of snaps of Flighty's fingers. Toast and tea were served whilst she read the letter herself and a young elfling trailed behind her with the cup and plate as she belted on her sword and wand and shrugged a light, elegant cloak over the top of her smart navy robe.

Harry looked particularly bleary when she met him at the floo. He held his own pumpkin juice and toast whilst an elf tried to smarten up his hair and robe. Sirius was hunched against the wall like a gargoyle, curled over a steaming cup of coffee. Theo joined them a moment later, looking as though he'd barely slept, with the case of their evidence clutched in his arms.

'Father has gone to report to the Dark Lord.' Theo informed them. Hermione nodded in understanding. Anneken and Berg were the last to arrive, not quite as quick as the younger members of the court. Sirius stood when they arrived, moving to join the circle. It was eerie – anticipation for the big day ahead hung almost as heavy as the mist, which cast the castle as a looming shape around them. The creak and clank of unseen guardians drifted from around them, invisible. Hermione had never fought a war of swords and soldiers, but this was not far from how she had imagined those interminable mornings that Mordred described in his stories, where the army was assembled and he could feel their nerves in every puff of silver air and rustle of clothing, but he only felt anticipation.

Hermione was going to a far less literal battle, but it still felt fitting to start the day in such an atmosphere. She led the way through the floo, mist glittering like stars on her cloak and dusting Harry's hair with silver. If the change of time and venue had been meant to deter reporters, it had succeeded; the ministry atrium was as quiet as Hermione had ever seen it. A whisper of low conversation drifted through the hall, respectfully quiet in the way that large public buildings could only be in the early morning. The floos were perhaps the busiest area, with people arriving to get a head start on their day of work. Several wizengamot members speckled the arrivals, already dressed in their distinctive plum robes.

Their group drew considerable interest as they huddled around the visitor's desk to submit their wands as identification. Hermione had never had to get a visitor's pin before, but then she'd never before been on such thin ice with the Ministry of Magic either, even when they were accusing her of freeing Sirius Black. Quite unwilling to allow the ministry any form of record of her true wand, Hermione had elected to bring the old hereditary wand she'd been gifted by Gellert when she first started visiting the past. There was some consternation when the little set of scales read her wand as having been in use for more than two hundred years, but it was quickly soothed over by Anneken and Berg and they were free to go.

Sirius spent the entire ride in the little golden lift needling her on the age of her wand, until she threatened to demonstrate its efficacity when they returned to the castle by jinxing his hair green for the rest of the summer.

The mood abruptly sobered when they reached the courtroom. Rita Skeeter leaned up against the wall outside and even her hovering quick quotes quill looked sullen.

'Lady Gorlois!' Skeeter greeted warmly, as soon as she spotted Hermione. The reporter had become a frequent fixture around the city since she'd moved in at the start of the summer; Skeeter's usual topics had all been heavily censored – the ministry were quashing any political story that didn't highlight the perfect and peaceful society they were pretending to be and Skeeter's scandalous writing style had lost her her front page pieces, particularly when she refused to truly criticize Hermione and Harry. Hermione had expressed sympathy but been brushed off; the reporter was confident that she would soar back to relevance once Voldemort came out into the open and had decided to experiment with writing a book in the meantime. From what Hermione had gathered, the book was somewhere between a biography and a historical account of the Gorlois Sect. Mordred had seemed to like it and Hermione assumed that trying to stop the reporter writing the book would only make her want to write it more.

'How did you get here?' Hermione asked, glancing at the ominous doors of the courtroom. The whole corridor was gloomier than it should be, making the large doors look almost black and casting nasty shadows on each of the spiked studs that held the reinforced hinges in place. Hermione had only seen doors with such heavy metalwork in the outer walls of castles. Here, she was confident that one could simply knock the wall down to the side of the door.

'I'm meant to be covering the press release in the Department of Magical Games and Sports.' Skeeter admitted, 'but I heard you'd held council late last night. I assumed that meant you had something interesting planned for here. I assume that's why they've scheduled the sport's release now; to make sure nobody else makes it here.'

'I assume so.' Hermione agreed, gesturing for the reporter to fall in with the rest of her party. 'And when have I ever not had something planned? I could hardly let this go unanswered.'

Skeeter looked very pleased, slipping into the group between Anneken and Berg and asking Anneken whether they should be expecting the thick fabric belts that Hermione had been recently wearing to stay for the next season, or whether they should expect a return to the rope girdles that Anneken had been using during the school year.

After the holdup over the wand at the security desk they were almost the last to arrive. Two chained chairs sat in the centre of the room, awaiting Harry and Hermione. Hermione draped her cloak over the chair, pretending ignorance at how it blocked the movement of the chains, propped her sword up against the arm, then sat in the chair as though it were a throne. Harry had copied her and Theo took the defence stand behind them, to great interest from the already gathered Wizengamot.

It was a large turnout for such a minor trial. The elected positions were mostly filled, as were the departmental head seats. The hereditary seats were a little more sporadic, as usual, considering there was little motivation beyond personal interest for them to cast their votes. Hermione had always garnered a large attendance among those seats when she was in a courtroom, and it was no different that day. Both Mr and Mrs Weasley were present, filling out the usually empty Prewett and Weasley seats. Lady Longbottom was in her seat, Sirius in the Black seat. Lord Nott took his place just before Dumbledore called the room to order.

There was a repetitive and predictable debate over the names and titles which would be used by both children of Gorlois now that the ministry were no longer on Hermione's side. Technically Hermione was entitled to the title of Heir from her Grindelwald side, but High Priestess was not a title recognised by the modern ministry and the Line of Gorlois were not a family entitled to any titles at all. The second sticking point came at their place of residence; Considering the number of magical residents and the size of Avalon castle, Dumbledore wanted a more precise location for their residence. Theo held his ground well against his headmaster, refusing to budge any more than 'Avalon Castle, the Isle of Avalon.'

Hermione surreptitiously checked her watch as they finally moved on to the relevant ministry officials. They'd barely begun the introductions and they'd already been underway for fifteen minutes.

The trial promised to remain long as no less than twelve witnesses were called in, then Theo called in their witnesses; the two goblins that had come to their aid from the doors of Gringotts. This sparked yet another debate over whether goblins were allowed to give evidence in a trial; this one was settled relatively quickly with a piece of precedence.

Half an hour in and they still hadn't even reached the actual trial. Hermione began to appreciate just how having a dark wizard on one's side and the support of the government could help speed up proceedings. She was internally debating whether she could get away with a wandless, wordless cushioning charm on the chair when she was addressed for the first time by Dumbledore.

'I assume, Lady Grindelwald, that you are aware of the decree for the reasonable restriction of underage sorcery, given the notice delivered to you at the end of every school year?'

'Considering it was my signature which ratified it into German magical law when it was imported in 1997, I would say so.' She drawled, garnering a wave of interested muttering. 'Perhaps my understanding is outdated, but I specifically recall Clause 7 providing an exception to the restriction in the case of danger to a witch, wizard or muggle, where danger is defined as an imminent threat of death or dismemberment. Removal of the soul would classify as dismemberment, would it not?'

'Clause 7 remains unchanged from when the decree was shared with Germany, including the final line, "where all non-magical means of defence have been exhausted."' Dumbledore peered at her over his glasses. 'Our witnesses place you at six meters from the closest doorway. Do you mean to say that the attack was so fast that you couldn't make your way to safety?'

'Yes.' Hermione responded firmly.

'Absurd.' Umbridge declared shrilly. 'If you had paid the slightest bit of attention in Defence Against the Dark Arts at school, you would be aware that dementors only move at speed when ordered to do so. When left to their own devices, they will glide.'

'If you'd bothered to teach us about dementors, we might have known that.' Harry spoke up from the chair beside her. Hermione bit her lip to keep from smiling.

'On that note, I believe my defence has some documents that might be of interest to the wizengamot.' Hermione glanced backwards at Theo, who deliberately broke protocol and passed the scroll to Madam Bones first, instead of the chief warlock. He'd started with the floo record, reasoning that it was likely to catch the witch's attention and ensure that proper protocol couldn't be restored.

Hermione took great pleasure in the reactions across the wizengamot; Fudge looked instantly gleeful and leaned over to whisper with Umbridge. Madam Bones was hard to read, but she looked irritated. Dumbledore looked frustrated, but not overly concerned, which was concerning in itself. Lady Longbottom, who hadn't been at the castle the night before for the last minute meeting, was pale with fury. The two Weasleys looked torn between shock and equal fury, but in their cases it threatened to match their skin to their hair. Mrs Weasley wore an expression very similar to the one Ginny always wore when she was about to unleash her bat bogey hex. Petrovna, who had been so drastically changed by the years, looked ready to stab Dumbledore with her wand. She was being restrained by a grim looking man that could be either a son or grandson and her green-robed healer. Rita Skeeter was scribbling furiously in her notepad, looking gleeful.

'The documents should not have been available to the public.' Dumbledore called for the attention of the court. 'Perhaps information theft should be added to the charges?'

'You've got some serious balls, Albus Dumbledore!' Petrovna screeched into the silence, shaking her wand hard enough to set off a set of firecrackers from the tip. She was hastily hushed by her two escorts, but Hermione couldn't keep down her smile. Petrovna had been blunt and outspoken in their youth and it seems the hardships she had suffered and the advantage of age had only exacerbated that.

'As the Lady Yaxley so aptly said…' Theo took over smoothly, 'The question should not be how the documents were obtained, but why the chief warlock of the wizengamot is abusing his power to order attacks on his students. In light of this, the defence moves for the charges to be dismissed as the defendant's lives were clearly in danger – acting under orders, dementors would indeed have moved fast enough to necessitate a patronus as defence. Indeed, I venture we are fortunate that both defendants were capable of casting the charm at all; Gellert Grindelwald's wrath should he learn of a deliberate attack on his ward by the state would be terrible to behold.'

'Yes, yes, quite.' Fudge agreed hastily, jumping to his feet. Apparently Alice Tunninger's restrictions on her guardian were not quite enough to eliminate the fear that he would simply blast his way to freedom given sufficient motivation. 'An inquiry… Lord Black?'

'I imagine I speak for many of the wizengamot, Minister, when I say that these events have left me unsettled; that our illustrious leader would abuse the not-insignificant power he has been given to further his own personal agenda. He continues to publicly dispute ministry policy and had now brought his own station into disrepute. In light of this, it is my belief that he can no longer be trusted in a position of such power. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black calls for a vote of no confidence in the chief warlock.'

'Seconded.' Lady Longbottom raised her hand quickly. 'By the Ancient House of Longbottom.'

Now, Dumbledore had gone very, very white. He seemed to shrink with every shout of agreement that came from the assembled wizengamot, many chiming in to agree despite not having seen the evidence that Theo had submitted. It seemed Hermione's claim was the feather in the smear campaign that had been running all summer. Fudge looked as though he'd just won a prize draw he hadn't even realised he'd been entered in as he stood up and called everyone to order.

The conclusion of the trial was as quick as the start had been slow. The minister rushed the court through a vote on Hermione and Harry's innocence, considering that it was clear now that their lives really had been in danger. They were cleared of all charges in minutes by a nearly unanimous vote and dismissed. As if terrified that his unexpected good fortune might change, Fudge began rushing through the vote of no confidence before the two defendants had even left the room.

Hermione glanced up at Dumbledore one last time as she settled her cloak over her shoulders. He was watching her leave, looking as though she'd just betrayed all that was good in the world. It gave her a sense of vicious satisfaction to see him experiencing the same sense of betrayal from someone who he'd thought was an ally as she had felt to discover that he had been the one to order the attack on her. She smirked up at him, then looked away to take the arm Harry offered, leaving the courtroom in chaos behind her.

She wondered whether Gellert had ever managed to tear down a political leader and opponent in his own trial.