Harry was coming down the stairs with Ginny and Hermione when Sirius appeared out of nowhere, stalking down into the entry. As he disappeared down into the basement, Bronach appeared in the hallway, looking tired. She noticed the three of them on the stairs after a moment, frozen in sudden surprise.

"If you wished to speak with your godfather, I would wait a bit," Bronach rubbed at her temples. "I should have expected that."

Kreacher appeared next to Bronach, an upset look on his face.

"Throw the awful china in with him," Bronach told the house elf, putting a hand on his shoulder. "He can break that if he wants to be destructive."

"What did you say to him?" Halbarad asked from behind them, and Harry jumped in surprise. He was a few steps above them, and looked grim as he raised an eyebrow at Bronach.

"We got distracted." Bronach looked sheepish. "You might want to send Lupin after him in half an hour or so. Maybe an hour."

"You were supposed to be discussing the hearing," Halbarad crossed his arms. "You're losing your touch if you let him provoke you."

Bronach scowled at him. "You should not know a thing about that."

"Daervunn likes to share stories with the only other person who had to manage you," Halbarad said dryly. "I am sure the reality was even more than I already know."

"What about the hearing?" Harry asked, wanting to know why they were discussing her hearing without her present.

With a sigh, Bronach waved her forward. "You should come in so we can discuss this in comfort."

It still baffled Harry, even after several days around Bronach, how easily Bronach shared information with her. Mrs. Weasley would probably insist that Harry let the adults handle things, but all Harry had to do was ask. And then there was…

"Do you want someone to come with you?" Bronach asked as Harry approached. "We can find anyone in the house except Sirius."

"I think I'm okay," Harry said, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. Bronach always did this, allowing Harry a witness or a buddy or whatever she wanted to call it. As if she cared that Harry felt safe.

With a nod, Bronach gently held out her hand, hovering just above Harry's shoulder. "If you do not mind, the easiest way to get you through the wards is to bring you in while touching you."

"Go ahead," Harry said, intrigued. She assumed there was something here, given Bronach and Sirius's appearance, but she hadn't expected to get an invitation to see it.

Placing her hand on Harry's shoulder, Bronach steered them through a doorway that appeared in the wall as they approached and into what Harry guessed was a study. It was full of old, heavy furniture and looked like something out of a television drama.

"I have not had a chance to redecorate in here," Bronach said, gesturing her into one of the armchairs by the fire. "Arcturus, the previous Head, had a particular image in mind when he was decorating."

She offered Harry tea, but Harry's stomach was churning uncomfortably. So far, she'd avoided thinking about the upcoming hearing, but here, in such an official setting, it was far harder.

"What were you and Sirius saying about my hearing?" Harry blurted out before she could stop herself.

"I was informing him that I did not want the Headmaster anywhere near it," Bronach sighed. "That devolved into a conversation where I indicated that, by the laws of this country, the Headmaster could have put a significantly greater amount of effort into having him exonerated."

Harry gaped at her. Dumbledore could have cleared Sirius's name?

"As Headmaster of Hogwarts, he had the authority, under the school charter, to offer Sirius sanctuary," Bronach said after a moment. "He could have arranged for a trial at any point after he knew that Sirius had never been given one, as Chief Warlock. And he could have pressed the case before the ICW as the Chief Mugwump. In short, he had a number of avenues in which he could have ensured that Sirius was properly tried and acquitted, but for whatever reason chose not to. That…well, it does not fill me with a great deal of confidence. So I requested that he remain away from your case, especially because he is currently persona non grata at the Ministry."

"Oh," Harry said, because what does one say to that?

"Your defense is fairly simple," Bronach said quietly, seeming to pick up on her turmoil. "We inform the Wizengamot that I was present and acting in the defense of you and your cousin. I swear a magical oath, should they require it of me. Our biggest challenge will be keeping Fudge from railroading us, as I am sure he remains less than fond of me."

"When did you meet Fudge?" Harry asked, screwing up her face at the memory of the Minister.

Bronach's smile was thin. "He was…decidedly unimpressed with my report of the circumstances I found you in, and the perpetrator. And he remains unimpressed with me, if the lack of response to my letters is means anything."

"What were you writing to him about?"

"My opinions of his slipshod approach to law and order, mostly," her guardian shrugged. "Ways that things could be improved quietly, with no need to make the general public aware that there was a problem in the first place."

"Maybe he's doing them, but doesn't want to admit that he is?" Harry ventured weakly.

"None of the changes have been made." Bronach's frown got even darker. "And there have been signs that he's going in the opposite direction."

Harry didn't quite know what to say. Fudge hadn't been bad when he met her at the Leaky Cauldron, but when she saw him again at the end of the Tournament…he'd left a lot to be desired.

"I have managed to arrange a tutor for History and Defense for you," Bronach said after a long moment, clearly interested in moving past the subject of Fudge's questionable decision-making skill. "They are willing to start whenever you're ready."

"Really?" Harry said, distracted. "So soon?"

Bronach had a sly smile on her face as she wrote a brief note and set it on the tea tray where it disappeared. "Convincing them was the most difficult part."

"What about that other tutor you mentioned?" Harry asked, avoiding the looming prospect of the Potions tuition that Bronach had briefly mentioned when they discussed tutors the other day. "The mind-reading one."

"Occlumancy," Bronach corrected absently, as if she was caught in a memory. "The defense of your mind. Your tutor will likely be disinclined to teach you Legilimancy, the art of penetrating the mind of another."

"So you were able to find one?"

"I am corresponding with the most preferable candidate," Bronach said as there was a knock on the door. "But so far it seems encouraging. Come in!"

To Harry's surprise, Professor Lupin cautiously opened the door, looking confused. "Kreacher indicated that you wished to see me?"

"Please come in, Mr. Lupin," Bronach said, conjuring a chair between her own and Harry's. "We were just discussing Miss Potter's tuition."

"Ah," the professor said, coming to sit between them. Bronach opened her mouth, shifting towards the tea set, and then closed it. She rapped sharply on the tea set, and it disappeared.

"Miss Potter," Bronach said, turning back towards them both. "I have taken the liberty of hiring Mr. Lupin to tutor you in both History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Is that acceptable to you?"

Harry couldn't believe what she was hearing. Bronach had been here for less than three months, been her guardian for less than three weeks, and now she was paying for Harry to have a tutor? And she'd hired Professor Lupin, who had a hard time working because he was a werewolf? "Yes," she blurted out, and then blushed.

Bronach smiled at her, and she caught Professor Lupin hiding a grin as well. "I am glad you approve. I spoke with Professor McGonagall when I requested the reports your guardian would be privy to, and she gave Mr. Lupin her full recommendation."

"Brilliant," Harry said, beaming at the professor. "You were the best Defense teacher we've had yet." Then the rest of Bronach's statement caught up with her. "What reports?"

"Parents or guardians of students receive year-end progress reports, summarizing student grades and, for children with at least one magical parent, any areas where they feel the student could use extra support. There is also a note of any particularly severe disciplinary transgressions."

"Oh," Harry said, imagining what would have been on her reports. "I assume my aunt and uncle received them?"

"I am unaware of who previously received your reports," Bronach said flatly. "Which is why I wished to review them myself, and discuss any questions I had with you."

"Oh," Harry repeated, not sure what she should say to that. She was still unused to adults taking an interest in her welfare.

"Your professors, the competent ones, noted an exceptional proficiency in Defense," Bronach said, tipping her head towards Professor Lupin, who looked proud at her. "Your ability to cast a patronus is particularly praiseworthy, considering many fully-grown adults cannot do so. Mr. Lupin, have you had a chance to consider lesson plans since I hired you?"

Professor Lupin cleared his throat. "Ah, I was considering an abbreviated version of the curriculum, with a war-focus," he said quietly. "The Hogwarts curricula should be sufficient, with a proper teacher, to cover OWL material. But what I thought I might be able to supplement her with would be practical applications with an eye towards things that would help Miss Potter—"

Bronach interrupted him, a stormy look on her face. "You will not train my ward to be a soldier in this war, Mr. Lupin. I will not allow it."

He looked taken aback, and Harry scowled at the woman. "But I want to fight!"

"And if the war is not over by the time you turn seventeen, I will have no ability to stop you from doing so," Bronach retorted, and Harry was surprised to see that the woman looked the closest to losing her temper that Harry had ever seen. "But, and I do not wish to demean you, at the moment you are underage and therefore my responsibility. And I will not be responsible for training child soldiers."

"You don't know what I'm capable of," Harry accused her, rising to her feet. "I've faced loads of things! I've faced Voldemort three times—"

"Call him Riddle if you must," Bronach said shortly. "With enough motivation, he will put the Taboo curse up and I'd rather not be cleaning up smears of Death Eater from the square outside." She took a deep breath, visibly calming herself. "I am more aware than you think about the trials you have faced in the last four years. None of those should have been yours to handle. The adults surrounding you have failed you, and as such have reinforced the belief that you must do everything yourself, because nobody else will act."

Harry clenched her jaw. But before she could come up with the right words, Bronach continued speaking. "You will, of course, be encouraged to learn how to defend yourself. But there is a difference between self-defense and enlisting in a vigilante force to fight an enemy that I am determined to end before you turn seventeen. You have an entire life ahead of you, and it is more than just fighting Riddle and his lackeys."

Bronach turned away, but kept talking, her voice softening. "You are fifteen, Miss Potter. You deserve to have worries no greater than your upcoming exams and, if you are so inclined, who you may or may not be attracted to, and who is attracted to you in turn. However, due to forces beyond your control, you have the added burden of a legitimate concern for your safety. We will teach you to defend yourself. But I will not see you on a battlefield unless it is wholly unavoidable."

"You can't be that much older than me!" Harry grumbled. "And you're talking about ending…Riddle."

Bronach whirled around, fire blazing in her eyes. "Perhaps that is because I am capable of doing so!" she snapped. "Consider, perhaps, that I was treated in the same way that I am attempting to prevent you from experiencing, and that is the source of my motivation? I was forged purposefully to be a weapon in a war I had no choice but to fight. That will not be your fate."

She turned and left the room, pausing briefly at the door to snap at the professor. "You will submit all your lesson plans to me for approval."

"Are you sure that's what she said?" Sirius asked as Moony wrapped his hands in dittany-soaked bandages.

"We've gone over it a hundred times Pads," Moony sighed, tying off the last bandage. "While you were busy smashing half the plates in the house, I was in the middle of a very awkward argument between your goddaughter and her new guardian."

"Your goddaughter too," Sirius muttered, about to run his hand through his hair but catching himself before he smeared dittany through his hair. I'd look like Snivilly then, he thought idly, and then pulled his mind back to the conversation in front of him. "She called herself a weapon?"

"…I was forged purposefully to be a weapon in a war I had no choice but to fight," Moony quoted dutifully. "And she was highly against the idea that she'd be party to training…child soldiers."

"But that's not what you were planning to do, right?" Sirius glanced at his friend, surprised to find a hint of guilt in the thoughtful look on Remus's face. "Moony, you weren't-"

"Not intentionally," Remus murmured. "But it may have had the same effect. I was going to teach her things that we learned during the skirmishes in the last war. I wanted Harry to know how to stay alive."

"That's not training her to be a child soldier though," Sirius scowled. "That's teaching her to fucking defend herself."

"Is it though?" Moony challenged. "We got sent out into the field with nothing but the Hogwarts DADA training under our belt. You and James weren't even past basic training during the first skirmish. The Order doesn't permit underaged wizards to join, but it sure as hell had no compunctions about taking freshly graduated students. Hell, we were practically recruited before our NEWTs were even finished. It's a fine line Pads, and I don't know that I would have thought about it before Lady Black brought it up."

"What does she know?" Sirius complained. "She hasn't been here."

"Sounds like where she was might have been worse."

"You can't be serious Moons!"

Remus frowned at him. "You know as well as I do that war means scars. And Lady Black certainly reacted as if I'd just pressed one of hers."

"Where in the world would she have come across a war though?" He checked to make sure the outer layer of bandages was dry, and then crossed his arms over his chest. "We would have heard if there was anything going on."

"Did you know where Dorea and Charlus were living?" his friend pointed out. "To get away from the Death Eaters…they probably went pretty far underground. A lot of the indigenous magical tribes practically disappeared themselves when European colonists arrived. If Charlus and Dorea found one of their communities…society in a bubble, untouched by the outside world just as the outside world is unaware of them. It's not impossible."

"Might explain why none of the translation charms are working," Sirius muttered crossly. The Order had tried several variants with little success. It was driving Moody up the wall, and Sirius could tell that Albus wasn't much fonder of the situation than the cranky old Auror. "Their language hasn't been included in the spell matrices."

"I think there's more than one language," Remus said thoughtfully. "Two, maybe three. I'm not sure if it's different dialects, or different languages entirely."

"Fascinating as this is, what are we going to do about her?" Sirius returned to the original subject. "Dictating what you teach Harry and all."

"Review my lesson plans to make sure they're tailored towards escape and survival, and submit them for her approval," Remus said with a shrug.

How disappointing. "You're just going to roll over like a good wolf?" Sirius needled, the way he had any number of times during their Hogwarts years, whenever it looked like Moony was going to back out on them. "Fall into line?"

"I'm going to take a moment to think about what type of role Harry is being pushed into, and make sure that I'm not continuing to be one of the adults that shirked their responsibilities towards her."

Sirius flinched. "I was in prison," he started hotly.

"And I'm a werewolf," Remus stared him down placidly. "And I let that keep me away from her. From what I've seen, life with her aunt and uncle was…well, it doesn't seem like it was happy."

"She was an orphan, Moons!" Sirius couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Of course it wasn't happy!"

"She was too young to remember them," Remus said, still collected despite the grief Sirius could see in his face. "She could have been happy with her aunt and uncle. But she wasn't. And…I was on guard duty, once or twice, when she went to visit Halbarad and Daervunn in the park."

"What about those two?" Sirius growled. They had him on edge, the way they kept an eye on his goddaughter. The two men watched her as if she was someone important to them. Harry didn't need that, didn't need to deal with older men trying to control her, to coax her into things she shouldn't be thinking about at her age.

"They were teaching her how to fight Pads," Remus stressed, clearly sensing the thoughts in Sirius's head. "How to escape holds, how to get free and run. But they always, always had food for her. Food to eat right then, and food to take back. Always stuff that was easy to hide, always stuff that kept well. As if they expected her to stash it, to not tell her aunt and uncle she had it."

"You think they weren't feeding her?" Sirius was distracted by the thought. "Really?"

Remus bit his lip, uncharacteristically uncertain. Then he sighed. "They were out, her aunt and uncle, one day. When I was on watch. So I looked through the windows of the house. I wanted to see her when she was growing up, and it looked like they had pictures in their lounge."

"Did you see them?" Sirius asked, furrowing his brow. He couldn't tell where Remus was going with this.

"There wasn't a single picture of Harry in that room," Remus said quietly. "Only their son, and some posed family pictures with Petunia, her husband, and the boy. If I didn't know better, I would have thought I had the wrong house."

"What are you trying to say?" Sirius asked, unable to follow Moony's train of thought.

"She's shorter than either Lily or James were at fifteen, she was getting food from people who were focused on teaching her to defend herself, and Lady Black indicated that the adults in Harry's life have failed her, after she'd moved to take over guardianship immediately, despite having barely known Harry." Moony paused and then looked Sirius in the eye. "I have to wonder what she knows about Harry that we don't."

Sirius wished he hadn't smashed all the dishes that Kreacher had brought.

Harry couldn't believe it, but it was easy to forget about her hearing in the whirlwind of life at Grimmauld Place, at least up until Bronach called her into the study to discuss the final details.

"Cousin Andromeda has offered to help you pick out your clothes for tomorrow," Bronach said, glancing up from the paperwork that covered her desk. "Unfortunately, I am not familiar with the appropriate attire for young heirs of your age."

"Why does that matter?" Harry asked, slouching in the chair. The good mood she'd developed after a day of tutoring with Professor Lupin, playing chess with Ron, and generally spending time with her friends had vanished at the mention of her hearing. "Aren't my dress robes fine?"

"They are the wrong sort of formal for an event like this," Bronach sighed, rubbing idly at her temples. "And your school robes are too informal. Thankfully, the wardrobe I arranged for you was ready for Kreacher to pick up this morning so we should have a number of options to choose from. I asked Andromeda to help me choose items…"

"Is that why Kreacher appeared with a measuring tape last week?" Harry said, the pieces falling into place. "And why he took a photo?"

"The tailor needed to know what colors might work best with your skin tone," Bronach said. "And before you protest, providing you with a wardrobe is part of the duties of your guardian. I restrained myself to only ordering what you would need for the immediate future, and only for formal events. We can discuss your everyday wardrobe when we see to your school shopping."

Harry frowned, and showed Andromeda to her suite after their Occlumancy lesson that evening.

"Consider your wardrobe to be a form of armor," Bronach said, having requested to join them a few moments earlier. They were sitting in Harry's sitting room, the contents of the unassuming parcel that had been waiting on the low table before the couch rotating slowly in the air on invisible dress forms. "If you are dressed appropriately for the occasion, you have succeeded in establishing the first line of defense."

"The Wizengamot is highly traditional," Andromeda said, studying the options, her gaze flicking between them and Harry. "If you are presented in a way that reminds them that you are one of them, it will help your case."

"Will you help me figure out how to put all this on?" Harry asked the pair once they had chosen an outfit. "I've never worn…any of this."

This was what Andromeda refered to as modern wizarding formal. What it looked like was something that belonged in a period drama. The skirt of her underdress came to mid-calf, showing only a tiny bit of the stockings that peeked out above the smart boots with the low heel that Harry was a tiny bit in love with already. Andromeda advised her to walk around in them, to let the fitting charms get to work before the hearing. The bodice was a plain cream color, but it wouldn't be seen since the close-fitting robe concealed it entirely, opening below the waist to show off the skirt beneath. Unfortunately, the sleeves were not as close fitting, being reasonably fitted down to the elbow only to go loose and bell-like from there to her wrist.

"I'm going to look like a fool," Harry complained to Hermione and Ginny when the pair piled into her room to commiserate after Andromeda and Bronach had left.

"You'll look very smart," Hermione said diplomatically.

"I'm glad I don't have to wear that," Ginny said, pulling a face. "There are so many layers."

"Tell me about it," Harry flopped on the settee. "What's wrong with pants and a bra?"

"I think this dress would look weird without the petticoat and…corset? Stays?" Hermione said, studying it where it hung on the dress form Bronach had conjured to help keep it from wrinkling. "The skirt would hang oddly, and the bodice wouldn't fit right."

"The boys are going to laugh," Harry said miserably, and thankfully Ginny switched the subject to the Quidditch match they'd listened to on the wireless that afternoon.

In the morning, Bronach knocked on her door five minutes after Kreacher had woken Harry with a cup of tea.

"I thought you might like help getting ready," her guardian said when Harry opened the door, blearily clutching the teacup. "May I come in?"

Glad of the assistance, Harry let her guardian take over the process of getting Harry in a state she considered presentable. After finishing the cup of tea, Harry was shooed into the bath and told to wash well and finish waking up. When she tumbled out, warm and slightly more awake, Bronach had her undergarments and the initial layers set out for Harry to slip into, then the woman steered her to the yet-unused dressing table and sat her down on the little stool.

"Drying charms don't work on my hair," Harry warned Bronach, who grinned wryly.

"They do, but it is not worth the amount of chaos they create," Bronach said, one hand going to her own hair ruefully. "Over the years, I learned a few tips and tricks."

Somehow, she got Harry's hair to a mostly-dry state without encountering the awful, fluffy mess that it turned into with conventional drying charms. Then Bronach started plaiting it, hands moving with an easy Harry envied.

"At fifteen, you have the option to leave your hair up or down," Bronach said as she tied off the plait with a bit of honest to goodness ribbon. "Either is appropriate, so I leave the choice up to you."

Harry found herself looking at her reflection with wide eyes. "Uh, what would you do if I said up?"

Bronach pinned the braid into a fancy-looking twist: simple, but elegant. "Nothing overly complicated," her guardian assured her. "I don't want you to look more mature than you are."

"Up, I guess," Harry wiggled awkwardly, but Bronach didn't scold her. Instead, the woman finished securing the twist and then picked up the small bag that she'd brought with her.

"If you are not averse, I would use a bit of cosmetics," Bronach said, taking out several jars and brushes. "Just to smooth over your features."

Feeling a bit helpless, as she had been in the face of Lavender and Pavarti's efforts to make her presentable for the Yule Ball, Harry nodded, and Bronach set to work, dusting her face with a light powder and smoothing a light balm over her lips.

"There," Bronach said, a note of satisfaction in her voice. "Perfectly natural, fresh-faced, and youthful. Now, would you like to eat, or would you rather dress?"

When Harry hesitated, about to refuse food with the way her stomach churned, Bronach continued: "I insist that you at least eat a bit of toast and drink a bit more tea, but if you are more comfortable doing so here and not in the clothes you will wear for the hearing…"

"Uh, yeah," Harry mumbled, feeling her shoulders hunch up. "Here, and now, is fine."

Kreacher brought her a plate of toast and another cup of tea. Bronach disappeared as Harry ate, but appeared once Kreacher had whisked the empty plate and cup away.

They got Harry into the dress, Bronach helping in a way that made Harry feel like she was some grand lady with a lady's maid to help dress her. "Am I going to have to have help every time I get dressed and undressed?"

"Oh no," Bronach laughed, and showed Harry how to use the spells that would button and unbutton the various garments, tighten or loosen the laces, and even let down the hems a little.

"Because you are still growing," Bronach said, something odd in her tone. "You might need it someday."

Once Harry was dressed, her boots on and her wand tucked into the cunning pocket in her robe sleeve, Bronach led her down to the dining room, where Glorfindel, Halbarad, and Daervunn were waiting for them, thumbing through the various periodicals that Bronach was subscribed to.

"You look very smart," Mrs. Weasley said, lips pursed as she bustled into the room.

"Thank you," Harry mumbled, sinking into the chair Bronach gestured her into. The woman was removing what Harry realized might be a full-body apron-thing to reveal a floor length, heavily embroidered robe with sleeves so droopy that it drove Harry to distraction just looking at them. Her colors were primarily silver and black, in comparison to Harry's more vibrant, in comparison, muted burgundy and bronze, and they repeated through the embroidery, the robe itself, even the belt and pouch hanging just below her bust line.

"Eowyn said they'd be down momentarily," Halbarad told Bronach, who nodded and pulled out an honest to goodness pocket watch that she used to check the time.

"We have a few moments," her guardian said, glancing around.

"No need," Eowyn called, entering with Faramir behind her. To Harry's surprise, the man was dressed similarly to Bronach, though with far less embroidery. The hem on his robe fell more in line with the mid-calf length of her skirt, revealing well-polished boots, and the entire thing was belted at his waist instead of higher like Bronach's.

"We ought to be off," Bronach said, exchanging looks with the others.

"Smooth gaits," Eowyn said as she kissed Faramir's cheek. "May the horn of Helm set your enemies to flight," she said to Bronach.

The grin Bronach responded with had a few too many teeth to be comforting. As they moved out into the hall, Bronach dropped a pendant over Harry's neck before tossing one to Faramir and donning one herself.

Harry followed Bronach, hearing Faramir follow her, as they left the house, going only a short distance from the house before Bronach hailed a cab. The driver paid no attention to their strange attire as they crammed themselves inside, Bronach requesting to be taken to the Churchill statue in Parliment Square Garden.

After a half-hour's ride where Harry did her best not to stare at the London scenery, Bronach paid the cabbie as Faramir helped Harry out of the car and onto the sidewalk. Despite the bustling early-morning crowd, nobody seemed to notice their clothing just as the cabbie had. Once the cab had pulled away, Bronach joined them and led them to the corner where they joined the crowd waiting for the light to turn.

Once they'd crossed the street, it didn't take long before Bronach drew to a halt before an old red telephone box.

"In we go," Bronach opened the door and stepped inside, pressing herself against the wall in easy reach of the receiver. Harry squished in as much as she could, trying to allow Faramir as much space as she could. Once the door was closed, Bronach picked up the receiver, muttering in one of her foreign languages as she punched in several numbers. "Bronach nos Arnor, Harry Potter, and Faramir o Emyn Arnen for Miss Potter's hearing."

The box descended as silver badges clattered into the tray below the receiver. Bronach passed them out without a word. Harry looked at hers, finding her name engraved, along with the word defendant.

When the box touched down in the middle of a busy, but relatively uncrowded atrium, Bronach cut through the crowd easily, leading Harry towards a small desk at the far end. "Wands?" the wizard sitting at the desk grunted without coming out from behind his copy of the Prophet.

At Bronach's nod, Harry handed over her wand. The wizard dropped it onto a set of scales which read out a bit of parchment which he squinted at. "Holly, eleven inches, phoenix?"

"Uh, yeah," Harry managed, and the wizard carelessly passed the wand back, coming out from behind his paper to squint at Bronach and Faramir, who had followed behind them like a silent shadow.

"We do not carry wands," Bronach said, and swept Harry away towards a golden monstrosity. For a moment, Harry was transfixed by the absolutely gross looks on the faces of all the creatures, and when she turned to ask Bronach about it, she was utterly bewildered by the tiny smile on her guardian's face.

"You like that statue?" Harry whispered, pausing for a moment before Faramir nudged her forward.

"Oh no," Bronach murmured as they made their way to the lifts. "I was considering other things. Like how it would look if someone blew it up."

Her frankness, and the sly smile on her face, made Harry giggle a bit, even with the looming hearing. But instead of the button for Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Bronach pressed the one that said Department of Mysteries.

"We have some business beyond your hearing," Bronach said, her mouth very close to Harry's ear. There were three others in the lift beyond the three of them, but the wizards were paying them no attention, chatting amongst themselves. "I promise that I will answer your questions, but not here. Not now."

They were the last to exit the elevators, into a glossy black corridor with eerie reflections cast by the flickering torchlight. Bronach wrapped her hand gently around Harry's bicep, leading her through a door near the end of the hall and into a round room filled with doors. Her guardian didn't hesitate to lead her through one particular door, telling Faramir quietly to leave it ajar as he followed them.

Small globes filled with mist stood on rows of tall shelves that filled the room as far as the eye could see. Bronach led her by her grip on Harry's arm, gentle for all that it was firm, moving as if she knew exactly where she was going when Harry couldn't keep track of where they were relative to the door.

"You'll have to take this one from the shelf," Bronach said as she stopped them in one aisle, pointing at one of the globes. "Only the person or persons who are described in the prophecy are capable of removing them safely."

Harry glanced at the orb with wide eyes. "There's a prophecy about me?"

"There was a prophecy made that the keepers of the Hall of Prophecy feel pertains to you, and as such you are the only person who is able to remove it." Bronach paused, and then frowned. "There are others, but you are the only one that I would wish to have it."

Tentatively, Harry reached up and plucked the orb from its holder. Bronach held out a small cloth bag expectantly. Resisting the urge to examine the tag more closely, Harry obediently tipped it into the bag. Bronach had promised to answer her questions later. Bronach had not broken that promise yet.

Bronach was as adept at navigating the way back to the door as she had been in getting to the prophecy now hidden in the depths of her robe and they were soon back out in the hallway to the lifts. But instead of going back to the lifts, Bronach continued down the hallway, leading them to a flight of old stone stairs, different from the glossy black floors.

"What about my hearing?" Harry asked when Bronach came to a halt outside a foreboding pair of wooden doors.

"We are exactly where we need to be," Bronach said quietly, and then Harry heard footsteps on the stairs behind them.

To Harry's surprise, it was Fudge, looking incredibly discomfited to see Harry and her companions standing there. The woman with him looked like a toad sucking on a lemon, but it was the final figure that made Harry nearly open her mouth to say…something.

Bronach's hand on her elbow, hidden by the sweep of her robes, squeezed gently. A warning, Harry supposed, and she kept her mouth shut.

Percy Weasley didn't even look at her as he walked by on Fudge's coattails.

Fudge opened the doors with an impatient tap of his wand, disappearing inside. Bronach did not move to enter, waiting instead for a large group of people wearing plum colored robes to file down the stairs. She checked her watch as the last one entered, and then turned to Harry, removing the pendant that Harry had quite forgotten she was wearing. "They will attempt to make you look unbalanced, crazy, and attention seeking," her guardian said in a low voice. "Whatever you do, do not speak unless I indicate that you should answer the question. The Ministry has no power to expel students from Hogwarts. They never have, and they never will. Trust that I will handle everything else."

Harry nodded, and Bronach led them through the heavy wooden doors. She shivered as she recognized the room from her escapades in Dumbledore's pensieve a few months before, the plum-robed crowd much more menacing as they found their seats in the amphitheater than they had seemed in the hallway.

Bronach seated them behind a simple wooden table, Faramir sitting in the first row behind them. The chair in the center of the room sat empty, its chains dormant.

After another bunch of wizards came through, the door closed with a heavy, foreboding thud. Harry did her best not to fidget as she waited for the assembly to take their seats, nobody seeming in any particular hurry to get things started. But eventually, Fudge picked up a gavel and rapped it on the desk, the wait seeming to have done little to appease his temper.

"The hearing will now commence," he announced, and droned through a list of Ministry personnel in attendance. Harry wasn't certain which of the two witches sitting with him was Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE, but she hoped it wasn't the toad-woman.

"I see that the defendant is not alone," the monocole-wearing witch said, peering down at Bronach. "Will her counsel please introduce herself to the court for the record?"

"If it pleases, Madame Bones," Bronach said, rising from her chair, "I am not Miss Potter's legal counsel. I am her guardian."

"Ah, yes," Madame Bones said, and something about the way she sorted through a pile of papers in front of her made Harry think that the witch had known who Bronach was. "I believe I did see that paperwork come through."

"Preposterous," Fudge blustered, glaring down at Bronach, who seemed unaffected. "Miss Potter's guardians are…are muggles."

"Until a few weeks ago, they were," Bronach's voice was placid. "They are no longer."

"The only way a child might be removed from their existing guardians is if there were proven allegations of abuse or neglect," one of the wizards in the crowd said, causing agreeing murmurs to spring up. Harry's stomach flipflopped nervously. Were they going to make her talk about the Dursleys? Here? "Are you alleging that this was the case?"

"I allege no such thing," Bronach said coolly. "There is one other case in which a child may be removed from their current legal guardians, and it is by that bylaw that I took custody of Miss Potter."

"You speak of the Heir clause," a different wizard said, frowning. "But there is no Head of House Potter, not until Miss Potter comes of age."

"My name is Bronach, Head of House Potter," Bronach declared, causing murmurs to spread through the room. "By blood and magic, filed with Gringotts and the Ministry alike, I lead my House with Miss Potter as my named heir."

"House Potter was reduced to a single member during the war," someone shouted. "There is no way…"

"If you care to see the paperwork that clearly states my descent from the union of Charlus Potter and Dorea Black, it is on file with the Ministry," Bronach cut through, her voice even frostier. "However, I did not come here to debate the legitimacy of my claim to my own House! We were summoned here to answer to the accusations of the illegal use of underage magic brought against my ward, and I find it odd that this summons result in a full trial before the Wizengamot! Dowager Longbottom, when in your life has this court ever sat in judgment of such matters?"

Harry startled as a woman peered down at Bronach with narrowed eyes. Was this Neville's grandmother, she who wore the stuffed vulture atop her hat? "Never," the witch said with a frown. "I have not heard of the Wizengamot arbitrating such things."

"Enough!" Fudge interjected loudly above the murmurs which started up again. "This court has been convened, and we will hear the matter!"

"Hem, hem," the toad woman coughed, her voice far too girlish to match her appearance. "I, for one, find this…stranger's claim to be quite disturbing. It is well known that the last recognized Head of House Potter was Fleamont Potter, and that his son James would have ascended, had it not been for his death."

"No other Head of House," Bronach said, a hint of tightly controlled fury in her voice, "has ever been asked to prove themselves over a matter such as this. But, since the Ministry seems determined to overthrow conventional expectations of etiquette and procedure, very well. Do you have some form of proof that I could present to verify my claim, since clearly the documents I filed with the Ministry and Gringotts were not enough?"

When the toad woman was silently gaping, Bronach moved towards the gallery of witches and wizards in plum. "Lord Nott," she said, extending her right hand to the wizard she had stopped in front of. "Is this not the signet ring worn by the Head of House Potter?"

He bent over her hand, examining it closely. Then, warily, he tried to touch the ring, only to jerk back as if shocked. "Yes," the wizard said, sounding reluctant. "It appears to be the genuine ring of House Potter."

Bronach approached the woman who Harry thought might be Neville's grandmother, and they repeated the process, Dowager Longbottom agreeing with Lord Nott. Then, she moved to the center of the room, standing by the awful chair.

"If the testimony of two honored members of the Wizengamot, and the documentation filed with the Ministry is not enough for this august body, I know not what further proofs I might supply," Bronach said, staring Fudge and the toad woman down. "I am Head of House Potter, Miss Potter is my ward, and it is my right, duty, and honor to speak for her in these proceedings."

The plum-robed gallery conferred amongst themselves, and Fudge's face turned increasingly red as it was clear that Bronach had won their support. He slammed the gavel down. "Order!" he shouted. "Lady Potter, may we now proceed with the matters for which this body was convened?"

"It was not I who caused the delay," Bronach said, her eyes fixed on the toad woman, who was glowering back.

Fudge blustered for a moment and then settled down to read off the charges against her. Harry bit her lip to keep from responding as he plunged into throwing questions at her, but Bronach cleared her throat.

"Minister Fudge, in the absence of an elected Chief Warlock, I request that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement be responsible for questioning my ward."

He, somehow, managed to go redder, but Madame Bones was already rising to her feet, a scroll of parchment before her.

"Miss Potter," the witch said, peering over the parchment to pin Harry with a gaze not unlike Professor McGonagall's, "do you swear to tell the truth, or must we compel it from you?"

Harry looked to Bronach, who nodded. They had discussed this with Andromeda, who had agreed with Bronach that a wand-oath could, and should, be taken if they reached this point in the proceedings.

Standing, Harry withdrew her wand and raised it, careful to keep her hand from trembling. "I swear by my wand that I will speak the truth to the extant of my ability during the course of my questioning by Madame Bones." Her wand tip glowed briefly, the sign that the oath was bound.

"To the extant of her ability?" Fudge blustered. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Bronach said, sounding like McGonagall explaining something for the millionth time, her patience clearly fraying, "that there will be some answers my ward cannot provide, as they would violate other oaths or secrecy compacts she is bound by. For instance, I have, as I am sure many have, certain protections upon my home that forbid her from disclosing the location in a public setting."

"It is common wording," Madame Bones agreed. "It allows the oath-bound to remain faithful to family magics preventing the disclosure of secrets. Now, Miss Potter, please state your name and address for the record."

"Harry Jamie Potter," Harry said once she had Bronach's nod of approval. "I cannot tell you my current address due to a secrecy oath."

"Noted," Madame Bones said as Percy scribbled away on his parchment. "Can you confirm that you currently reside with Lady Potter?"

"I can," Harry said, once Bronach nodded.

"Where did you reside before you lived with Lady Potter?"

"Number Four, Privet Drive, Surrey," Harry answered.

"And who were your previous guardians?"

"Vernon and Petunia Dursley."

"Did anyone else live with you?"

"My cousin, Dudley Dursley."

"So," Madame Bones said. "Vernon and Petunia Dursley were related to you?"

"Petunia was my mother's sister," Harry said. "They were my aunt and uncle."

"I see," Madame Bones said, and waited for Percy's quill to stop moving. "There is a record in your file of a previous violation of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery."

Harry kept quiet, not knowing what to say.

"Were you aware of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, Miss Potter?"

"Yes ma'am," Harry answered when Bronach nodded.

"When did you become aware of the Decree?"

"At the end of my first year," Harry answered. "They told us that we weren't allowed to do magic over the summer."

"And yet you performed a levitation charm less than two months after you admit to learning of the Decree."

Harry wasn't sure why Madame Bones was asking about that. Why did it matter to the trial about her use of the patronus to ward off the dementors, or rather, Bronach's magic that tipped off the Trace?

"Madame Bones," Bronach interjected calmly, "I understand that you are attempting to establish a history of disregard for the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. However, my ward has indicated to me that she was not responsible for the levitation charm, and I have questioned the one responsible myself and found their stories to match. If it pleases you, I can produce the responsible party and you may question them at your leisure."

When had Bronach had a chance to speak with Dobby? Harry tried not to let her surprise show on her face.

Madame Bones studied Bronach for a moment. "Very well, we will hear evidence against that matter at another time. For the moment, the court will note that Miss Potter was well aware of the Decree, and the consequences for breaking it, beginning the summer of her second year, but we shall not hold the trespass of that time against her."

"Thank you for your understanding, Madame," Bronach dipped her head courteously. "I will, of course, furnish you with the name of the responsible party upon request."

"Miss Potter," Madame Bones said, focusing back on Harry. "Please describe the events of the night of the second of August for the Wizengamot."

Bronach nodded, and Harry explained about leaving Privet Drive to go to the park. Explained that she had felt everything get cold and dark, like she remembered it being around dementors.

"You have experience in dementor encounters?" Madame Bones interrupted with a frown.

"My third year," Harry said. "When the dementors searched the train, I felt them. And…" she swallowed. The court did not need to know what she heard. "That entire school year was awful. They attacked the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. And at the end of the year, they tried to…"

"My ward is referring to the incident where Sirius Black was temporarily apprehended at Hogwarts under questionable circumstances," Bronach interjected. "The Minister should recall the incident well, as he was present for it."

Fudge blustered, now starting to turn purple around the edges, but he agreed that Harry had been exposed to the dementors.

"Why would the dementors approach a child?" someone in the gallery asked disdainfully. Bronach drew herself up, fixing the speaker with a glare.

"My ward has been party to more traumatic experiences than half the adults in this room," Bronach's voice was as cold as the air in a dementor's presence. Harry shivered. "If this court must know the details, by all means, ask my ward what she heard at the age of thirteen as dementors approached her on the train to school."

Unfortunately, the wizard in question was just stupid enough to take Bronach up on that.

"Well, Miss Potter?" the wizard said, still sounding as if he was looking down his nose at her. "What did you hear?"

Fury burned in Harry's gut, and she scowled at him. "I heard my mother," she said, and the room went deathly silent. "She was screaming for Voldemort to kill her instead. To spare me." Wanting to twist the knife further, Harry added: "It's the only memory I have of her."

"Well," Bronach said after a long moment. "I appreciate the Wizengamot's sensitivity with respect to the traumatic experiences my ward has endured. If we are finished putting them on display?"

Madame Bones gathered up her parchment, sweeping a quelling gaze over the assembly. "There are to be no further interruptions to my questioning," she said firmly. "None. We have established that Miss Potter has sufficient experience to recognize the presence of a dementor."

"If the Ministry requires further proof of my ward's susceptibility to the presence of the dementors, they may inquire with Madame Pomfrey, who administered medical evaluations after the three incidents at Hogwarts during the school year beginning in ninety-three," Bronach added.

"What happened after you recognized the presence of a dementor?" Madame Bones picked up her questioning.

"Lady Potter and two of her companions arrived," Harry said, remembering to wait for Bronach's nod. "Lady Potter told me not to cast my patronus and drove off the dementors."

"Dementors, plural?" Madame Bones inquired, raising her eyebrow.

"Yeah," Harry said, frowning as she tried to remember. "There were…two."

"How did Lady Potter drive off the dementors?" Madame Bones said, and Bronach stepped forward.

"A foreign spell," Bronach said simply. "And a pair of enchanted blades."

"Blades?"

"The dementors were killed," Bronach said blandly. "Did the Ministry not recover their remains during their on-site investigation?"

"No investigation was conducted," Madame Bones said tightly, eyes shifting towards Fudge.

"Preposterous," the man burst out, slamming his fist down and wincing. "Dementors, in a muggle area? Absurd!"

"The fact remains, Cornelius," Madame Bones said chillingly, "that the ranks of Azkaban are short two dementors."

"Test the wand of my ward," Bronach interjected. "It will show whether or not she cast the patronus."

At Madame Bones's gesture, Harry advanced, having gone over this plan with Bronach as well. Slowly, as nonthreateningly as she could, Harry drew her wand and handed it over.

When Madame Bones cast the spell, only a few puffs of smoke appeared, which were waved away by the woman after a moment's scrutiny. Harry returned to her seat, mindful of Andromeda's tips on managing her skirts, and waited for the verdict.

"There have been no spells cast with this wand since the end of the school year in June," Madame Bones announced, the news breaking the silence of the gallery occupants. "Miss Potter could not be in violation of the Decree, as she cast no spell. Even if she had, her testimony, and the testimony of Lady Potter, is sufficient to suggest reasonable fear for her life. Despite there being a muggle involved, the muggle in question was Miss Potter's cousin and therefore knew about magic, so there was no breach of the Statute. In fact, I would argue that Lady Potter's actions preserved the Statute by preventing the need for the Magical Catastrophes department to intervene to adjust the muggle perception of the event, had the dementors attacked."

There was a burst of discussion, but Madame Bones raised her voice: "I find it impossible to continue this hearing, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement drops all charges related to this incident. I unofficially caution Miss Potter and Lady Potter to be mindful of their actions in the future, but find them at no risk for violating either the Decree or the Statute."

"The charges will be stricken from her record?" Bronach asked.

"As it appears that Miss Potter was falsely warned due to magic being performed in her vicinity? Yes, we will strike the charges," Madame Bones said.

Harry couldn't believe it. Bronach had managed to get her off completely, and possibly would even get Dobby's charm on the pudding resolved as well. This was better than she had dared hope for, and made all of the discussions and the wardrobe worth it.

"Hem, hem," came from the toad-woman, and Harry felt her stomach sink for no reason. The woman was looking down her nose at Bronach. "While it appears that Miss Potter was not in violation of the Decree, can we truly say that Lady Potter was not?"

"Pardon me?" Bronach's back was ramrod straight, and Harry couldn't see her expression, but she was certain that it was terrifyingly chilling.

"Well," the witch tittered, "your assumption of House Potter is so…sudden. Tell me, Lady Potter, do you have your NEWT scores?"

"I was educated abroad," Bronach said tightly. "What is it that you are attempting to accuse me of, Madame Undersecretary?"

"No OWL scores either?" the woman tutted lightly. "My, I am attempting to accuse you of nothing. But I fear that you were in violation of the Decree when you cast magic in proximity to Miss Potter."

"A Head of House is considered of age out of necessity, Madame Umbridge," Bronach said, and Harry had never heard her guardian sound that…dangerous. "I was not in violation of the law."

"But were you Head of House when the spell was cast?" the toad woman pressed. "Your ascension…so sudden. I'm sure your paperwork would clear things up."

"It certainly would," Bronach said coolly. "Now, if you will excuse me, my ward and I have other business to attend to today."

"Dismissed," Madame Bones said, cutting over whatever the toad woman would have said. Bronach crossed the floor to Harry, gesturing for her to stand up. Harry thought she caught a flash of a gesture as her guardian looked at Faramir, but it was gone before she could get a proper look.

They made their way out of the courtroom amidst a storm of conversation, but Bronach ignored the calls of her title. That is, until someone caught up to them in the hallway, sounding out of breath.

"Lady Potter," they gasped, as Faramir stepped swiftly between them and Harry. "Lady Potter, a brief word?"

"Brief," Bronach said shortly. "What is it that you want?"

"Madame Bones asks that you visit her office before you depart," the man blurted out. "To discuss the past offense."

"I am afraid that I have other matters-" Bronach began, but the wizard straightened his spine.

"Madame Bones wishes to speak with you," he repeated firmly. "It will not take long."

Bronach stared him down for a long moment before turning away. "Very well," she murmured, and when they entered the lift, she hit the button for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.