The Wizengamot hearing
Harry entered Courtroom Ten in the bowels of the Ministry, and immediately remembered his first trip here; as a scared kid, being tried by a full court of the Wizengamot for a little underage accidental magic. Today here was no Dumbledore to come in and save the day. Technically Aberforth Dumbledore still ran the Hog's Head, but he wasn't in the saving people business; he mostly just facilitated them self-medicating. They still got a trickle of food-poisoning cases from the Hog's Head, but in general, anyone stupid enough to trust Abe's cooking and cleaning was going to get sick from something else preventable anyway.
As Harry wasn't on trial, he didn't have to sit on the chair covered in chains, which was just as well. The last time he'd seen someone on the chair, it had been a post-war trial, and they'd been screaming just before they were shipped of to Azkaban. He realized he would probably have a nightmare tonight. Which was quite annoying really, thought Harry; if he'd done nothing he'd have had a Daphne Greengrass in his bed within a few months and that would, he was fairly sure, be quite appealing. Well, up to the point she freaked out because it reminded her of her ex-husbands, and she either attacked him, or harmed herself. Harry's mood took a dive off a cliff without a broom at the thought.
Harry's lawyer sat at one of two tables facing the front, and Harry sat down next to them; it felt a lot less horrid than last time, really. The circular bands of Wizengamot seating extended all around the room, except for the Public Gallery; which was actually not public, as the Press were barred from it; they had to wait outside.
The other table had lawyers from Hortnum and Swithers; Mr Doge waved to Harry cheerily. Harry mused that this was not technically a court case; both parties were just submitting to the Wizengamot that they thought the Bequest was unfair, and should be ruled void.
The public gallery filled up, and Harry spotted the Greengrasses, all in a group. Which was a little strange, but it wasn't about them, not really, as much as it was about the Bequest; which was administered by Hortnum and Swithers; the Greengrasses were currently just it's victims. Well, Daphne Greengrass, anyway. She looked… pretty. Harry looked away quickly; and saw Percy Weasley, wearing official black regalia, once again being Clerk of the court.
Percy gave Harry a polite nod. The actual Wizengamot seats filled slowly with purple robes and hats. Harry looked around and didn't actually recognize anyone there. But they all looked mature and faintly bored, but were, in fact, staring at him. Harry tried to just think of it like a trip down Diagon Alley, with, in fact, no risk of being asked for an autograph, or photographed. His right leg jiggled, and his back, between his shoulder-blades itched, but he was sure he was fine.
After much murmuring around the room, the massive doors to the lifts closed, and the room started to settle. After a little more delay, a door on the first rung of seats, in front of the court opened, and three people filed in, not in Purple robes. Hermione, in black robes and hat, Mr Ogden, who was Chief Warlock, and Hermione's undersecretary, Roger Malone. Who Harry was quite sure didn't like pink, wasn't evil, and did a hell of a lot of paperwork. And got a present at Christmas every year from Ron, for making sure Hermione went home… at all.
Percy stood up and made a formal opening of the hearing.
"Wizengamot hearing to rule on the applicability of Bequests of persons, meeting number five thousand three hundred and twelve. Minister Hermione Granger presiding."
Hermione stood up and gave an abbreviated bow to the wizengamot; three bows, left right and centre. Then she said, quite formally "The minutes of the ruling have been distributed by W.A.S. owl eight days before this hearing. Has any member not received their copy of these minutes?"
Mr Ogden said "Light your wand if you have not been briefed on this case."
Harry craned his neck and looked around the room. There weren't any lit wands up. He suspected Percy had been efficient. Friends really were the power he knew not, thought Harry, even if Percy was more, related to lots of friends than an actual friend per-se.
"The Ministry would like to express a recommendation to the Wizengamot," said Hermione. "Namely, that the Wizengamot rule that no Bequest, no matter how ancient and venerable, can act upon living persons. We would like to point out that should case law be established that a Bequest can apply to a living person, or one not yet born, there will exist substantial possibility for abuse of Bequests, to control persons."
There were mutters from all around the courtroom.
"The specific instance, of course," said Percy, "Is that Healer Harry Potter, order of Merlin First class, in the course of his usual employment at St Mungo's cured a long-standing curse on the Greengrass family. Following that, a Bequest activated, that promised a Betrothal to the eldest marriageable Greengrass to whoever cured the family." Someone wolf-whistled. Harry resisted the urge to look around to see who it had been.
"Now Healer Potter does not see why he should be betrothed to a witch just for doing his job. In fact, we would like to remind the Wizengamot that we have an Amicus Curiae brief included in the briefing pack from St Mungo's legal representatives – Hackenbush, Hackenbush, and Shaw, who would like to ask the Wizengamot to consider that Bequests like this could hamper the performance of their healers; as obviously some families would see setting up a bequest like this as an easy way to marry off family members at a loose end; and ensure a profitable match to a respectable Healer. They also suggest that the prospect of being involuntarily married to some arbitrary person might significantly reduce the number of persons willing to become Healers. It is worth noting, that should this hearing not rule in favour of voiding such Bequests, that many of our unwed Healers might leave St Mungo's, to escape the threat of involuntary Betrothal. And finally, the Ministry would like to point out that this particular ruling would prevent Harry Potter from being involuntarily married; and Harry Potter has, in case anyone has forgotten, defeated the Dark Lord Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known by his pseudonym… Voldemort, and ended the second blood war, and freed the Wizengamot from the oppression of the coup conducted thereby. We all owe Mr Potter a great debt… but as St Mungo's point out… we risk losing many healers, leaving St Mungo's not only understaffed and unable to meet the needs of Wizarding Britain, but also vastly less able to train and hire staff, given the risk of Bequests leading to Betrothals.
Percy waited a minute for the Wizengamot to finish Harumphing.
"And of course," said Percy, "If a Healer at St Mungo's can be trapped by a Bequest, then a Wizengamot member can also… so hypothetically, any members who are single, could be picked off by gold-diggers equipped with only a class three enchanted Bequest," Percy hesitated "At current prices, Mr Doge, who much would such a Bequest cost to set up?"
Doge stood, and spoke "Given that it could be quite simple, less than a hundred galleons, to eliminate free will in marriages in Magical Britain. It could, of course, apply equally well to elderly family members, widowed or widowers, who were, hypothetically, still in control of their family wealth. Persons such as esteemed senior members of the Wizengamot." Doge sat down. The silence in the courtroom was deafening.
Harry tried not to smile; they'd clearly organized this carefully to ensure everyone was saying the same thing. Though, he hadn't thought that his current problem was actually a problem of legal precedent, and could equally well apply to … any rich old person… of which the Wizengamot seemed to have quite a few.
Then the very boring debate part started, and Harry wished he had something to read; it was soon clear that everyone arguing was arguing to hear themselves talk, and he presumed they weren't stupid enough to allow the Bequest… because it would affect them as well.
And… then someone, he thought it was a Selwyn stood up and gave a pre-written speech, strongly implying that the reason Harry wanted out of the Bequest's Betrothal, was that he was gay, or neuter, because of his exposure to dark magic in the war. Harry tried not to glare at them.
He was not going to admit to having sampled the pleasures of the London Cub scene. Well, and then loathed himself for having to lie to the women he'd, well lain with.
After hours of discussion… the Wizengamot agreed that Bequests could not apply to people… and that any existing Bequests of that kind were void. They balked at voting yes Hermione's request to fund curse-breaking for, well, Harry. Not that Hortnum and Swithers thought the bequest was cursed, but it paid to be sure.
Harry left Courtroom Ten a free man.
Outside the doors, there was a crowd of people, and reporters. Camera flashes blinded Harry for a while. He waited for the camera flashes to stop, for the reporters to shove each other into some sort of order. He'd learned those lessons over time.
"Harry, how would you describe the outcome?" asked Rita Skeeter.
"Justice was served," said Harry.
"And your rejection of poor heiress Greengrass?" asked Rita. Harry did not sigh or roll his eyes. He was not being baited into something; one of the photographers would catch it, and it would be a front-page tomorrow.
"Rita, this is about people having choices," said Harry "In Miss Greengrass's case, the choice to decide who she marries. Much like your choice to leave the Greengrass's alone in the wake of this decision. Or the DMLE's choice to follow up some old leads…."
Rita nodded, looking suddenly nervous.
Harry smiled. Hermione's campaign for Minister had been singularly un-marred by Rita; and while blackmailing Rita Skeeter forever was a little corrupt, Hermione in general, meant well.
Someone from Witch Weekly was asking what Dress-Robe he'd wear to the wedding he wasn't having when the reporters all stopped looking at Harry and looked behind him.
Harry looked behind him. Daphne Greengrass had come out of the courtroom with her family, said "There he is!" and walked over to Harry and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Thanks Healer Potter. You're a brick."
Harry felt his cheeks heating.
"Ohhh!" exclaimed half the witches present in unison.
Daphne Greengrass drew herself up and turned to Rita and the other reporters.
"I would like to make a personal statement," she said. Enchanted quills scribbled furiously.
"I would like to thank Healer Potter, once again, for saving me. While it might not have been a fate worse than death," she said. Harry sighed, and turned to look at her; she was in fact smirking, of course.
"Having one's choices taken away by ancient cursed contracts is the very measure of a hellish fate. I am reminded of the time poor little Harry Potter had his name come out of the Goblet of Fire."
'Oh, she'd thought about that,' thought Harry, uncomfortably aware he was going to have certain nightmares again tonight.
"And we all know that was, in fact, a plot by the late he-who-must-not-be-named to use Potter in a hideous dark ritual, to regain the body he had lost when Harry was just an infant," said Greengrass.
Harry realized, with a sinking heart that he would be having quite a medley of nightmares tonight. Hello Cedric, my old friend.
"So I think we can all agree that contracts that take away people's choices are the very worst kind of magic," said Greengrass. "I hope that our Minster will use this ruling as a spear-head for reforms, destroying once and for all the spectre of ancient binding contracts, and once-and-for-all making forced marriages of any kind illegal, null and void, for all British citizens."
That would, thought Harry, have made poor Daphne's life a damn sight better. She hadn't said her family had married her off, but the implication was right there, like an unlanced boil. He thought he personally wouldn't mind if some new legislation included a little clause that underage competitors selected by the Goblet of Fire were entitled to Ministry-funded curse-breaking, and didn't have to compete. Just in case it happened to someone again later.