Trials of the Chief Warlock
Harry sank back into his seat, overwhelmed and lost in thought amid the sea of magical faces. The weight of the ultimatum pressed heavily on him. Could he really stand against Dumbledore in front of everyone? He felt compelled to return to the dark, convinced that if he didn't choose it willingly, he'd be forced into it. While life under Voldemort was far from ideal, it was preferable to being isolated at the Burrow wondering who would be killed or captured next.
"Everything okay, Harry? You're looking rather pale," Mr. Weasley inquired, his concern evident as he peered down at him.
Harry managed a nod. "Just a bit overwhelmed. Being here brings back unpleasant memories," he replied, sensing that he was on the cusp of adding yet another distressing memory to his collection of horrible ministry experiences.
"It'll be okay," Arthur reassured him, settling into the seat beside Harry. "Your role today will be straightforward. Dumbledore will ask you the rehearsed questions; you'll give your responses, providing him with the ammunition for the real political battle. You'll be back home in time for dinner."
Home… Harry blinked unseeing. The Burrow wasn't his home, as much as he wished it were. While the Weasley's were beyond kind, he knew he wasn't truly a part of their family. Worst, that he was the cause for most of the awful things that had happened to them recently.
Harry exhaled deeply, his mind shifting to the questions Dumbledore would pose, trying to focus on the present. Was Voldemort regaining power? Was his army growing? Did he plan to seize control of the ministry? Did Harry believe Voldemort still feared Dumbledore and the light side? Their plan didn't include delving into Harry's captivity, and since he wasn't on trial, he wasn't obliged to answer any questions beyond what Dumbledore asked. He could choose to step down from the stand at any time if it became too much. He was just supposed to provide enough to give Dumbledore a case to make a strong plea.
A hush fell over the assembly. Madame Bones stood up at the center of the Wizengamot, commanding the attention of all gathered in the hallowed chamber, asking them to take their seats. With a stern last look over those shuffling to find their chairs, she nodded at Percy Weasley, who with an air of officialdom, began to read the agenda. The chamber echoed with his voice, announcing that the day's proceedings were to determine whether Albus Dumbledore would retain his position as Chief Warlock. The gravity of the situation was palpable, casting a tense atmosphere over the room.
Harry scanned the gathering, his gaze drifting over the faces of those who represented the light side. He recognized the aged-etched features of Neville Longbottom's grandmother, a stern woman whose face seemed to be in a perpetual scowl. There was Elphias Doge, who sat up straight and rigid, clearly nervous, and Dedalus Diggle, whose excitement was barely contained even in such solemn circumstances. Kingsley Shacklebolt's stoic demeanor stood out, his eyes watching his surroundings, taking everything in. Next to him sat Tonks, Molly Weasley, and Minerva McGonagall. Tonks waved at him cheerfully, giving him a large thumbs-up. Harry managed what probably looked like a constipated smile in return.
Amidst the assembly of wizards and witches, a stark division was apparent. On one side, figures representing the light, and on the other, a gathering shrouded in the darkness of their allegiance. Lucius Malfoy, embodying aristocratic disdain, sat with a cold, calculating gaze that surveyed the room with barely concealed contempt. The burly forms of Crabbe and Goyle flanked him, their imposing statures and menacing demeanors apparent.
The dark side had shown up in strength. Nearby, Nott Senior, with his angular features and piercing eyes, watched the proceedings in silence. Narcissa Malfoy, composed yet austere, sat next to her husband. The Carrow twins, Alecto and Amycus, sat beside them, followed by Yaxley and Rowle, each a formidable presence in their own right. The gathering included several others whom Harry faintly recognized from his time wandering in Slytherin Manor. If the assembly was a balance of light and dark, it seemed the scales were tipping slightly in favor of darkness by sheer volume.
In the midst of these two opposing sides was another group, presumably neutral. Harry recalled Draco's words about Voldemort's influence reaching many who claimed neutrality, swaying them through threats or promises. If he also had them, then it appeared Voldemort would have the numbers to sway the vote. A mere 51% majority was needed, and the odds seemed to favor the dark side unless Dumbledore could conjure a miracle. Harry, coincidentally, was expected to be that miracle.
Harry scanned the room for any sign of Voldemort himself but found none. He attempted to extend his magical senses, hoping to identify the unique and malevolent signature he associated with the Dark Lord. However, the room was saturated with the presence of so many powerful witches and wizards, making it impossible to discern any individual aura. The uncertainty of Voldemort's presence added a layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere, leaving Harry to wonder about the machinations playing out in the shadows of this assembly. Did Voldemort come often? Did he have an altered persona that was commonly accepted in the ministry? Or had he only come to ensure Harry complied?
Madame Bones stood again, bringing the murmuring assembly to a respectful silence. With a firm and clear voice, she addressed the Wizengamot, setting the stage for what would likely prove to be a pivotal moment in wizarding history.
"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed members of the Wizengamot," she began, her tone commanding yet measured. "As you are all undoubtedly aware, we are gathered here under grave circumstances. Allegations have been raised questioning the fitness of Albus Dumbledore to continue in his role as Chief Warlock. Given the significance of these claims and considering that they have been endorsed by over half of our body, it is both our duty and responsibility to proceed with a formal judgment."
She paused, allowing the weight of her words to settle in the room. "This is not a matter we approach lightly. The position of Chief Warlock is not just a title, but a symbol of wisdom, justice, and leadership within our community. The implications of these proceedings reach far beyond this chamber and affect the very fabric of our society."
Madame Bones continued, her voice steady, laced with the seriousness of the situation. "We must conduct these proceedings with the utmost integrity and fairness. Every testimony will be heard, and every piece of evidence will be examined with scrupulous attention to detail. We owe it to our community, to the principles of justice, and to Albus Dumbledore himself to ensure that this process is beyond reproach."
"The trial will be structured to allow a comprehensive review of the allegations, including testimonies from both those who support and oppose the motion. We will also review Dumbledore's contributions and actions in his tenure as Chief Warlock. In the end, it is the truth we seek, and it is the truth that will guide our judgment."
With a final, resolute look, Madame Bones concluded, "Let us proceed with a clear mind and a commitment to justice. The future of our magical community and the legacy of one of its most prominent figures hang in the balance. This session will determine not just the fate of Albus Dumbledore's position but potentially the direction of our entire community as we face increasingly trying times."
As she finished, the room remained enveloped in a solemn silence, the magnitude of the moment palpable.
As she sat down, Percy stood next to her. "As previously coordinated, those in opposition of Albus Dumbledore will have the floor first, followed by a chance for Lord Dumbledore to speak on his own behalf and call forth any witness testimony he feels is relevant. Lord Ambrose, as the designated lead of the opposition, I will hand the floor over to you."
As Percy Weasley ceded control of the room, Lysander Ambrose stood up, embodying a quiet dignity. He was an elderly wizard whose short, silver hair that had once been jet black and which complemented his aristocratic features—a sculpted nose, high cheekbones, intelligent dark brown eyes, and a pointed chin prominent upon rich, deep brown weathered skin marked with age spots that showcased the gentle creases of time, showcasing a life under the sun. To Harry, he seemed like the kind of man who might spend a peaceful afternoon birdwatching in a park, not someone ensnared in the machinations of a Dark Lord.
As Harry's gaze lingered on Ambrose, he noticed the slight tremble in the wizard's hands, a vivid contrast to his otherwise composed demeanor. Ambrose exuded an air of seasoned authority, yet beneath this veneer, Harry recognized signs of inner turmoil. There was a certain sadness in Ambrose's eyes, a look that spoke of personal sacrifices and lost freedom. It made Harry wonder when the last time was that Ambrose had seen his granddaughter, when the last time he was free to act without the shadows of manipulation hanging over him.
This observation stirred a sense of empathy in Harry. Ambrose, despite his prestigious appearance and apparent willingness to oust Dumbledore, was yet another victim of the far- reaching influence of Voldemort, a reminder of the personal costs of this ongoing battle against darkness. He hoped he could change some of that. Make it where little girls were no longer held at ransom to influence politics.
Ambrose stepped forward, his voice rich yet tinged with an unmistakable note of resignation. "Thank you, Percy," he began, addressing the Wizengamot with a practiced formality. "Esteemed members, it is with a heavy heart that I stand before you today. The topic at hand is one of great consequence, not just for us here, but for the entire wizarding world."
He paused, seemingly collecting his thoughts before continuing. "We find ourselves at a critical juncture, a moment where the very fabric of our society is strained, possibly even torn. The challenges we face are unprecedented, and they demand a unity and solidarity that is essential for our collective strength. In these trying times, it is imperative that we have leadership that embodies not just wisdom and strength, but also an openness to new ideas and perspectives. We must navigate this transition with a leader who can unify us, ensuring that we emerge stronger, not fractured and weakened."
Ambrose's gaze swept across the room, his expression one of earnest concern. "The question before us, therefore, is whether Albus Dumbledore is still the leader best suited to guide us through this tumultuous period. It is a question we must consider with both respect for his past contributions, but more importantly, an eye towards our future needs."
As he spoke, Harry observed the mixed reactions of the Wizengamot members. Some nodded in agreement, while others seemed skeptical, their expressions betraying a deep loyalty to Dumbledore. It was clear that Ambrose's words, despite the evident reluctance with which he delivered them, were resonating with a large portion of the audience.
Concluding his opening remarks, Ambrose added, "It is with a sense of duty to our community that I bring forth this inquiry. Let us proceed with open minds and hearts, seeking only what is best for the future of our world."
As Lysander Ambrose concluded his remarks, a hush fell over the Wizengamot. From the gathered assembly, a figure rose to continue the case against Dumbledore. This was Emeric Vane, a wizard whose reputation for meticulous research and analysis apparently quite well- known in magical circles.
Emeric Vane, with a scholarly air, approached the podium. His presence was less imposing than Ambrose's, yet his confidence in his findings was unmistakable. He carried with him a stack of parchments and several magical artifacts that seemed to be evidence for his presentation.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the Wizengamot," Vane began, his voice clear and precise. He held an air of confidence that Harry could only dream of emulating. It was clear he was used to speaking in front of such audiences. "I stand before you today to present a comprehensive analysis that highlights the areas where Albus Dumbledore, despite his undoubted past achievements, has been failing the wizarding world in recent times."
He meticulously laid out his parchments, each one filled with detailed notes, graphs, and magical imprints. "Through extensive research, I have compiled data that shows a decline in the effectiveness of policies under Dumbledore's leadership, particularly in the realms of magical education, international relations, and the handling of dark magical threats."
Vane proceeded to present specific examples, citing instances where decisions made by Dumbledore had led to unintended and often negative consequences. He brought up the increasing unrest among magical creature communities, the growing dissatisfaction among Hogwarts staff and students, the missed opportunities to curb the rise of dark activities in certain regions, the attack on the Hogwarts Express, and the fact that school was closed due to a lack of leadership and power to protect its own student. In all, it took about an hour.
Harry was shocked by what he heard. All of it sounded true, and when combined into one single speech, it certainly did make Dumbledore look ineffective if not outright negligent. He knew it wasn't entirely the Headmaster's fault. The Ministry had refused to believe Voldemort was back for an entire year; they hadn't given the resources needed to the light to try and fight the dark. But in this setting, it did not seem to matter. What stood out was Dumbledore was failing, that he was not fit to safeguard his students, and was ineffective for the magical society at large.
"While Dumbledore's previous contributions to our world are immense and admirable," Vane continued, "it is crucial that we evaluate his current performance with objectivity. Our world is evolving, and the challenges we face require a leader who can adapt and respond with strategies that are effective in today's context."
He concluded his presentation by placing his final parchment on the podium, a summary of his findings and recommendations, which magically duplicated itself in front of all those gathered. "It is with great respect for Albus Dumbledore and what he has achieved that I present this data. However, it is our responsibility to consider whether a change in leadership might better serve the needs of our community in these changing times."
As Emeric Vane stepped back, a murmur of discussion began to ripple through the chamber, his presentation igniting a flurry of debates among the members of the Wizengamot. The evidence he had laid out was compelling, and it was clear that his words had given the assembly much to think over regarding Dumbledore's role in the future of the wizarding world. The light side looked resigned, depressed. The Dark gleeful. The neutral was a mix, but mostly, they seemed to concur with the remarks that Dumbledore wasn't fit to lead them.
Percy Weasley rose again, an unmistakable note of self-importance coloring his demeanor. "Lord Ambrose, before we proceed to Lord Dumbledore's defense, do you wish to present any further witnesses or testimony?" he inquired, his tone formal yet tinged with a hint of condescension.
Lord Ambrose's gaze shifted, landing on Harry, and in that moment, Harry's heart sank. He sensed what was about to unfold. "I believe Mr. Harry Potter has consented to contribute to these proceedings," Ambrose stated.
The chamber instantly erupted into a cacophony of whispers and raised voices, surprise and controversy stirred by the announcement. The noise swelled until it was abruptly quelled by Minister Bones' amplified command for "SILENCE!"
Lord Ambrose turned, addressing Harry. "If Mr. Potter is willing, we would ask him to extend the courtesy of his witness testimony to both sides. We recognize the challenges he has faced in recent months, and our aim here is solely to uncover the truth. Mr. Potter, you are under no obligation to respond to any question that makes you uncomfortable, and you may exit these proceedings at your discretion. Our intent is not to deceive or mislead but to ensure the utmost fairness in this trial. You have been a symbol of courage and resilience in our community. In the spirit of transparency and justice, would you be willing to answer a few questions from the opposition?"
The room descended into a hushed stillness, every pair of eyes fixating on Harry. In this charged moment, laden with palpable expectation, Harry felt trapped. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry caught a nearly imperceptible nod from Malfoy.
"Harry, you don't have to do this," Mr. Weasley murmured gently, his voice a soft whisper. Harry turned to look at the man who had always shown him nothing but fatherly love and warmth. The elderly Weasley's expression was carved with concern.
He was certain this was what Voldemort wanted, what had been orchestrated to force him to make a decision in front of everyone. It was equally brilliant and repulsive."
He sighed. "If I avoid this, it won't help Dumbledore; they'll twist my words later, claim they were planned by the light side. I think I have to face them directly if my testimony is to hold any weight," Harry replied quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as he stood, feeling the chair slide back with a soft scrape.
As he moved forward, a murmur rippled through the chamber, the sound reflecting the collective anticipation of the audience.
Minister Bones, her voice tinged with reluctance, addressed the solemn teenage. "If you're sure about this, Mr. Potter, please step up to the podium. Lord Ambrose, will you be conducting the questioning, or will it be another member of the opposition?"
Harry walked towards the indicated dais, his steps unsteady, his mind racing. He wasn't sure who he hoped would conduct the questioning. He dreaded the thought of facing Malfoy or Nott across the questioning table, having to betray everyone while they stared down at him haughtily.
Ambrose nodded his head towards the side wall, "Mr. Emeric Vane will handle the questioning." He gestured towards the lithe figure who had been sitting attentively near the neutral side. "His methodical approach should be comforting for Mr. Potter, and no one can deny that he has always been firmly neutral regarding most political maneuvering. Is this arrangement agreeable to you, Mr. Potter?"
Harry, taken aback by the consideration shown towards him, nodded, a glimmer of hope stirring within him that the experience might not be as dreadful as he had anticipated.
Coming to stand directly before the teen, Emeric Vane began outlining the rules, his voice neutral but clear. "Mr. Potter, to ensure the integrity of these proceedings, the podium you're standing at has been enchanted to detect any deception. You have the right to remain silent or leave at any point. However, if you lie, the orbs beside you will turn red, and you will be immediately dismissed as a witness. You may choose not to answer or to answer truthfully, but any attempt at deceit will result in your disqualification from further testimony. That means both sides will be banned from using you as a further witness. Do you understand?"
Harry nodded, a lump forming in his throat. Vane continued, "Please answer only the question asked. If a simple 'yes' or 'no' suffices, that is all I require. I'll ask further questions if necessary. If you go beyond my question, I will interrupt you. Understand that your responses are limited to my line of questioning, and if you are called again later, the other side may choose to explore your answers more deeply if they desire. Do you understand?"
Again, Harry nodded, his apprehension growing. The rules of engagement were clear, yet the complexity of his situation was not lost on him. Staying silent or exiting might send a message just as powerful as any words he could speak. And depending how much this wizard knew about him, knew about the truth of what he'd gone through, this had the potential to be equally as damning for Harry as it was for the light side if he exposed Harry's dark dabbling.
"Very well, let us commence with the questioning. For the record, please state your full name for the court."
"Harry James Potter," Harry answered. The orbs remained dark.
"Where is your home of residence?" Vane continued.
Harry hesitated, his gaze briefly meeting Minister Bones' and then Dumbledore's. "I'd prefer not to disclose my address for security reasons," he responded. The globes beside him remained unlit, indicating the truthfulness of his statement.
"Understandable, given your history," Vane acknowledged. "Unless there are objections, we shall not pursue further identity verification. I believe that those present agree that Mr. Potter is who he claims to be." He paused, scanning the room. No objections were raised.
"Very well. To ensure the orbs are working, please tell a lie. Anything will do."
Harry's lips twitched faintly, "I'm happy to be here." Both orbs blazed red.
Mr. Vane released an appreciative chuckle before returning to his more controlled posture. "Now, Mr. Potter, I will ask you some questions about your upbringing. Because Lord Dumbledore has been your magical guardian since your parents' untimely deaths, we seek to understand his decisions concerning your welfare. To start us off, did you grow up in the magical world or with Muggles?"
"With Muggles," Harry replied.
"And your relationship to them?"
"My aunt and uncle," he said, striving to maintain a neutral tone despite the discomfort the Dursleys evoked.
"Were you treated well in their care?"
Harry furrowed his brow. "In what sense?"
"Did you receive adequate care? Were you nourished properly? Did you feel loved and supported, as one might expect in a family? Did they cloth you? Take you on vacations? Treat like their son?"
"I don't see the relevance of this?" Harry challenged, reluctant to air his personal history in such a public forum.
"Mr. Potter, please allow me to determine the relevance of the questions. You may answer, abstain, or leave at any point," Vane reiterated calmly.
Reluctantly, Harry conceded, his expression hardening. "No, I wasn't treated well."
"Please expand on why you feel this way."
Harry suppressed a sigh, hating both Voldemort and the Order for putting him in this position where he had no choice but to testify or risk losing everything. "They were neglectful and fearful of magic. I barely received enough food, and they wanted nothing to do with me," Harry replied curtly, deliberately omitting the harsher details of his upbringing with the Dursleys.
A wave of shock and indignation swept through the room at his revelation, causing Harry to shift uneasily. He avoided the eyes of the audience, feeling a deep sense of embarrassment at having his personal life exposed so publicly.
Percy Weasley, adopting an annoyingly officious tone, quickly intervened to restore order. "I must remind everyone present that disruptions and interjections are strictly prohibited," he announced, his voice taking on a note of authority. He emphatically struck a book, likely the official rule book of the proceedings, against the desk, emphasizing his point. "This is a formal hearing. Both sides have the right to call witnesses without external influence. This is your first and only warning; any further disruptions will result in removal from the chamber!"
After issuing his warning, Percy sat back down, his ears tinged with red and his breathing noticeably agitated.
Harry's attention shifted back to Vane, who appeared mildly amused by the interruption but quickly regained his composure. With a shrug and an impassive expression, Vane continued the questioning as if nothing had occurred.
"Were you acquainted with the wizarding world prior to receiving your Hogwarts letter?" Vane asked, refocusing the line of questioning.
"No."
"So, you were unaware of your heritage and status in the wizarding world until then?"
"That's correct. I knew nothing about being a wizard or my parents' legacy until I received my Hogwarts letter," Harry confirmed, a frown creasing his forehead.
The courtroom buzzed with murmurs, both sides appearing equally taken aback, but they were kept quiet and silenced quickly as Percy looked ready to toss his book at those closest to him.
"To summarize for the record, we have before us Mr. Potter, the same wizard who ended the first war saving countless lives, who was hidden away from his community in a non-magical household that feared and neglected him, all while being kept ignorant of his heritage. And all this under the guardianship of Albus Dumbledore. Is that an accurate portrayal?"
Harry glanced at Dumbledore, meeting his sad gaze. He knew the headmaster's choices were driven by the need for protection, not malice or cruelty. Yet the specifics of why weren't the focus here, and Harry couldn't deny his own bitter feelings about those years. There were nights he thought he would starve to death. The day he fled the Dursley's he'd genuinely believed Vernon planned to hurt him. Absolutely anything would have been better.
"Yes, that's correct."
"Did you ever express a desire to be removed from their care, to reside with another family?" Vane inquired further.
Harry nodded, the memory stirring a deep sense of longing within him. He had often wished for a different life, away from the Dursleys. The irony wasn't lost on him; despite all the so- called protection, he had still fallen into Voldemort's hands. The neglect and mistreatment he had endured, all under the guise of safety, now seemed pointless.
"Yes, I asked to leave their care after my first year at Hogwarts, and I repeated that request every summer thereafter," Harry recounted, his voice tinged with a mixture of regret and resignation.
"And to be perfectly clear, your requests were due to their negligent treatment and lack of care? This wasn't a spoiled child having a spat with his guardians; if we were truly to look at the circumstances surrounding your upbringing, is it correct to call what you endured child abuse?" Vane asked, his tone neutral.
Again, Harry nodded in confirmation, not meeting anyone's eyes.
"Please state your response so that we can verify your words through the truth enchantments."
"Yes." His voice was barely audible, but the orbs remained dark, indicating his conviction regarding the truth of his troubled youth.
Vane continued, his tone conveying a mix of professionalism and sympathy. "I want to make it clear that my intention is not to cause distress to Mr. Potter. Rather, it's to illuminate a significant truth. The wizard to whom many owe a great debt was subjected to one of the most challenging upbringings of any young witch or wizard in his generation. At a time when the wizarding world was celebrating his achievements, he was facing neglect and concealment, isolated from the very community he had saved."
His words echoed through the silent chamber, casting a somber light on the stark contrast between Harry's celebrated heroism and his painful personal history.
"Let's shift the focus of our questions now. Mr. Potter, there is a widespread belief, whether accurate or not, that you possess significant magical abilities and are destined to play a key role in any potential future conflicts between the factions of light and dark. Are you aware of this perception? A simple 'yes' or 'no,' if you please."
Harry had to admit that the way the wizard framed the potential for a violent war was remarkably diplomatic. He gave a slight nod. "Yes," he answered. Despite his discomfort with such expectations, he knew they existed.
"Has Lord Dumbledore ever expressed or indicated a belief that you would play a crucial role in such a conflict? Yes or no."
"Yes."
"Has he provided you with any specialized training or protection, anything beyond the standard Hogwarts curriculum, to prepare you for this role?"
Harry observed the wizard, barely containing his surprise. How did he know? This had to have been orchestrated by Voldemort. The questions were too knowledgeable; it was every argument the Dark Lord had used against Harry to try and sway him. It had been damning to Harry's trust towards Dumbledore then, and he was certain it would be damning to those listening now.
"No, not beyond what is taught at school." Why had Dumbledore been so stubborn, so resistant to helping Harry be able to defend himself, be able to fight? It made zero sense.
"Did you ever find that odd, Mr. Potter? That Lord Dumbledore, a wizard celebrated for defeating Grindelwald and whom you've just acknowledged saw you as central to any potential conflicts, has done nothing to prepare you specifically?" Vane probed further.
Harry looked down, feeling the weight of the question. "Yes," he admitted, his voice low. "I found that odd."
Vane then addressed the assembly, his tone underscored with a note of accusation. "I would like the record to reflect a glaring discrepancy in Lord Dumbledore's actions and statements over the past months, even years. He has been vocal about the looming threat of war, sowing fear and distrust among us. Yet, paradoxically, he has neither guided nor adequately prepared Mr. Potter, the very individual he touts as a key figure and a symbol for his followers to rally behind. This young man, who has endured a neglected childhood under Dumbledore's guardianship, has been left without guidance or support since the fateful night he lost his parents. It paints a picture not just of neglect, but of exploitation."
He turned back to Harry. "Now, Mr. Potter, we're nearing the end of this questioning, and I understand that these final inquiries might be sensitive. Please remember that you are at liberty to refrain from answering or to terminate your participation at any point. However, I must remind you to refrain from providing false information, no matter how uncomfortable the truth might be. Are you prepared to continue?"
Harry gave a reluctant nod, his apprehension growing. The previous questions about his upbringing had been difficult enough, and he braced himself for what might be even more challenging queries.
"The widespread belief is that, over the past several months, you have been residing with the individual commonly known as the Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort. Is this accurate?" A shutter swept through the room, several members openly gasping, covering their mouths in surprise and fear.
Harry's eyes widened slightly, taken aback by the bluntness of the question. The open acknowledgment of Voldemort's return was unexpected, especially in this context. He glanced around, noticing Malfoy's subtle nod of confirmation. "Yes," Harry managed to say, his voice betraying a hint of his inner turmoil.
"During this arrangement, were there any conditions or agreements in place? Did the Dark Lord have to meet certain requirements to ensure your cooperation?"
Again, Harry nodded, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach. "Yes, there were conditions."
"Could you please explain what those conditions were for us?"
"He agreed not to harm my friends, not to target any children, and to refrain from harming innocents." His voice was steady, but inside, Harry thoughts were awhirl.
"And to the best of your knowledge, has he kept his word?" Numbly, Harry nodded.
"Please state your answer for the record."
"Yes," Harry mumbled. The orbs remained dark.
Inhaling deeply, Harry's mind raced with the implications of how his testimony was being manipulated. The line of questioning was cunning, aiming to paint Voldemort in an uncharacteristically reasonable light, suggesting that their uneasy coexistence might indicate a chance for a potentially larger peaceful resolution. It would result in a dangerous and misleading conclusion being drawn, portraying Voldemort as someone amenable to negotiation, fueling hopes among those longing to avoid conflict.
Voldemort, who had been unmoving and uncompromising in almost everything regarding Harry, was masterfully using the extremely few times he'd seemingly acquiesced to paint a very different picture from what Harry had experienced daily. It was astonishing how Voldemort had somehow managed to orchestrate this narrative so perfectly in front of the entire Wizengamont. He truly was the king of all Slytherins. Harry was both appalled and, more disturbingly, impressed.
"And what of you, Mr. Potter? I understand that you entered into an apprenticeship with him as a result of your negotiation. Has he continued your education in a satisfactory matter? Are you clothed and furnished with reasonable accommodations? Are you given regular meals? Is he providing for you as would be expected within a master and apprentice relationship?"
Harry nodded again, he felt the same echo in his ears that had started when Malfoy had told him he would have to do this, that he would have to go on the stand and betray the light. It wasn't even that hard. Clearly, this wizard knew exactly what he was doing. He was asking all the right questions so that Harry did not have to lie while, at the same time, was able to disrupt everything the light had been saying about the dark. "Yes, he's fulfilled his promises regarding the apprenticeship."
"Thank you, Mr. Potter; we are nearing the end of this. I appreciate your candor and willingness to communicate all this. It is necessary to understand the full picture of what has been occurring since so much is often concealed from the ministry and my esteemed colleagues who make up this gathering," he gave Dumbledore a pointed look.
"Now, before your removal from the apprenticeship by the group known as the Order of the Phoenix – an organization that frequently acts beyond the Ministry's jurisdiction and is led by Albus Dumbledore – I want to discuss the nature of your arrangement. While doing so, I also want to emphasize that your safety and well-being deeply matter to all of us who are present."
Harry wasn't so sure he believed that about either side, but there was no question, so he remained silent.
"This arrangement you voluntarily entered into, one which ensured your friends' safety and averted innocent casualties, leads to a crucial question about your current standing with the Dark Lord." Vane continued, his tone measured, probing. "Do you fear for your life, Mr. Potter? Or do you believe he genuinely intends for you to live and grow into the powerful and capable wizard we all know you are destined to become? This is significant for the court, as it would contrasts starkly with the image of a murderous irrational tyrant consistently portrayed by Albus Dumbledore."
He paused, glancing around the hall for effect. "Our current Chief Warlock continues to advocate for war, yet no blood has been shed. Many do not believe there is any reason for that to change. I would submit that if you, Mr. Potter, the one who once vanquished him as a child, trusts him after spending months in his care, it could suggest a reassessment of the situation is in order."
He slowly turned, looking at each member in turn. "We've been led to believe one narrative by our current leadership, but if we're to avoid an unnecessary and undesired return to a state of war, it's vital we understand the full truth." He turned back towards Harry. "So, Mr. Potter, I ask you directly: Do you believe that the Dark Lord seeks to take your life, or, despite your destined history, is this formidable master of various magical disciplines genuinely achieving reform by offering you the opportunity to be his apprentice?"
Harry's mind whirled as he took a deep breath. He wasn't sure if he should be laughing or crying at the absurdity of this masterful performance. Everything was neatly packaged, lies within truths. He glanced at the orbs, considering his answer. His connection and relationship with Voldemort were beyond complex, far exceeding any simple threat of death. It was a mix of harsh discipline, manipulation, and arcane magic that linked them in so many ways that he was beginning to lose count. Yet, somehow, the past months had revealed Voldemort's genuine yet disturbing desire to have Harry as his apprentice. He had given Harry back his family's legacy and taught the teen as if he expected him to come of age soon. He'd given him power and even trusted him to enter the Slytherin vault. While it might only be because Harry carried a part of the wizard's soul, he couldn't deny that the Dark Lord's plans for the Gryffindor had inexplicably changed. He wanted Harry alive and by his side. And Harry was certain he would do anything to succeed.
"Mr. Potter?"
"No," Harry finally responded, breaking the tense silence. "I don't believe he intends to kill me. He seems to genuinely want me as his apprentice, and I think he'll honor our agreement as long as I do." The orbs remained dark; Harry exhaled in disbelief, his heart pounding. He had just publicly acknowledged his trust in Voldemort to the entire Ministry. He wondered if it even mattered to them that the wizard had tortured and killed so many in the last war. It seemed that all they cared about was avoiding another outright war, no matter the cost. They didn't care what he did in the shadows as long as their illusion of peace wasn't shattered. It was revolting.
Vane nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. Your bravery in navigating your difficult past and seeking a compromise that benefits all is commendable. Now, my final question: You've expressed trust in the Dark Lord's commitment to both your safety and those you care about. Do you have the same confidence in Dumbledore? Do you believe he can ensure your safety or the safety of others?"
Harry inhaled deeply, trying to keep himself from visibly shaking. Voldemort's command to oppose Dumbledore publicly reverberated in the teen's troubled thoughts. His gaze shifted towards the headmaster, who looked crestfallen, seemingly realizing the consequences of his decisions. Dumbledore had consistently failed to protect Harry. He had not kept his friends safe. He had not prepared Harry for this war. He had damned Harry to a horrible childhood, and it now seemed that the elderly Light Lord could see the writing on the wall; Harry was resigned to a life at the side of his parent's murder because he saw that as the only way to ensure those he cared about were safe. Light blue eyes met troubled green, and in that moment, both seemed to acknowledge the path Harry had chosen to take.
"No," Harry whispered, barely audible. "I don't trust him to protect me, and I doubt his ability to keep others safe." The orbs on either side of him remained dark. Dumbledore closed his eyes, dipping his head as if nodding in acceptance of his failure to protect Harry and, as a consequence, the wizarding world.
As Harry's words hung in the air, the chamber descended into pandemonium. Voices from the light, dark, and neutral factions clashed, each side vocalizing their shock and disbelief.
Minister Bones and Percy Weasley struggled to restore order, but their efforts were largely in vain.
Harry was in a daze, barely registering the chaos around him. He vaguely noticed Molly Weasley's launching herself directly at Malfoy, accusing the dark side of brainwashing Harry. Professor McGonagall stood beside a defeated-looking Dumbledore, her whispers frantic. In a bizarre turn, Madame Longbottom, brandishing her vulture hat, was using the dead bird as a weapon against a laughing Nott Senior. Grey and white feathers were floating everywhere. It was Lord Ambrose who approached Harry amidst the tumult, the only one seemingly willing to engage directly with the newly turned Boy-Who-Betrayed.
"Young man, Mr. Potter, are you alright?" Ambrose's voice broke through Harry's stupor.
"No," Harry replied, his gaze sweeping over the uproar. This disarray in the Ministry made him question if anything, even Voldemort's rule, could be worse than this current sorry state.
"Come, let's get you out of here," Ambrose suggested, nodding towards a side door.
"Won't I need to stay as a witness for the other side?" Harry asked dully, the thought of enduring more of this seeming unbearable.
"No, your testimony has been quite conclusive," Ambrose replied, a hint of sadness in his tone.
Harry, fueled by a sudden spark of boldness, glared at the wizard. "Shouldn't that please you?" He knew Ambrose was the opposition's leader, likely the next Chief Warlock if Voldemort had his way.
Ambrose's response was somber. "I suspect it pleases me as much as it pleases you."
Harry's defiance waned, remembering Ambrose's own personal stakes in this, his granddaughter's safety. "Have you seen her?" he asked, his annoyance quickly transitioning to pity for the aging wizard.
"Not in the last few weeks. Not since you were reclaimed by the light. Did you see her before you left? Is she safe" Ambrose asked, concern etching his face.
Harry shook his head. "I haven't seen her, but I was told she's safe, that she would be returned if you complied."
Ambrose nodded, looking worn and weary. "Then I shall continue on," he murmured, placing a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder and guiding him towards the side door. Harry walked with him, he felt numb. He could hardly believe he'd gone through with it. It was one thing to think about it while lying in Ron's bed alone and relatively safe. It was an entirely different one to actually follow through in front of the entire Wizengamot .
"I'll try to arrange a visit for you, or ensure she's returned after the vote," Harry promised, sincerely hoping he could make it happen. If he couldn't at least help a little girl, then all of this had been for nothing.
As they reached the door and stepped through, a hush enveloped them. The room was spellbound for silence, a stark contrast to the cacophony they had just left behind.
Ambrose, looking weary yet hopeful, turned to Harry. "Do you genuinely believe what you said back there? That he'll uphold the promises he's made? That he'll return her if I do what he's required?" His light blue eyes conveyed a mixture of hope and anguish.
"Yeah, I do," Harry replied with a slight shrug. "If you follow his demands, I believe you'll see her again, unharmed." He just hoped the cost was worth it. Only time would tell. He paused, his gaze drifting around the small waiting room they had entered. It was a simple space with two comfortable armchairs, a white leather couch, and a coffee table.
His attention was drawn to a faded poster on the wall, showcasing what appeared to be an assembly of Wizengamot members from a few generations past. Their expressions varied from smiles to scowls, evoking the spirit of a bygone era, completely unaware of the war looming in the present day. Some figures were waving, others appeared deep in silent conversation. A black and white banner floated above them, declaring, "Making the Ministry Magical since 1707!" Harry couldn't help but snort at the sight, contemplating whether the current turmoil in the Wizengamot chambers matched the visions of their forebears.
Behind them the door scraped open again, both wizards turned to see who had followed them. Harry's heart had jumped, half-expecting the Order to attempt to reclaim him after his dramatic betrayal. His breath caught as he locked eyes with a man bearing ordinary brown eyes – the same wizard he had spotted earlier near Malfoy, whom he had suspected was Voldemort in disguise.
"Can I assist you? Mr. Potter could use some time alone to recover after everything that just happened," Lord Ambrose interjected, stepping protectively in front of Harry as the new arrival advanced towards them. "I believe it would be best for you to leave."
The wizard merely smirked, a twinkle of malicious amusement in his eyes. "I doubt Harry would object to my presence." The voice was altered, yet Harry's intuition screamed that this was indeed the Dark Lord. Even with the wizard's magic masked, he could feel it. After spending so much time around the Dark Lord, he suspected his own magic would always instinctively know when the dark wizard was near.
"It's okay," Harry reassured, gently touching Ambrose's arm, grateful for his swift defense yet aware of the danger it posed to the older wizard. Harry stepped forward; this was an encounter he could not avoid and one that he'd rather face alone, not wanting to drag Ambrose into whatever punishment awaited Harry for having been taken in the first place. "You should probably return. You'll be needed for the rest of the session."
The elderly wizard stood firm. "I won't leave you alone with someone unknown stranger, Mr. Potter. Not after what you've endured."
"I am quite familiar to Mr. Potter," retorted the wizard. He pulled out his wand, stepping into Harry's personal space.
"What are you doing?" Ambrose exclaimed, horrified. "I'll call security!"
"No, you won't," commanded Voldemort, unleashing a surge of dark energy. Ambrose gasped, his face paling as recognition of the intruder overtook him.
"My... Lord," he stammered.
Harry, rigidly frozen before his possessive master, felt the wand's tip glide along his collarbone, slowly tracing his neck. Shifting his head, the Gryffindor raised his chin, moving with the wooden tip that was thrust painfully against his soft, vulnerable flesh. He swallowed, wondering if he was going to be tortured despite doing everything asked of him. He met Voldemort's intense gaze, sensing the malevolence in his eyes.
"I did not like you being outside of my reach," Voldemort murmured, his tone unnerving Harry with its hunger.
"It's fortunate I'm back, then," Harry replied quietly.
Voldemort's expression softened. "Indeed, it is." He twisted his wand beneath Harry's shirt, drawing forth the ruby necklace.
"You know the word," Voldemort prompted.
As Harry reached for the cold stone, the door burst open, revealing a frantic Mr. Weasley. His relief at finding Harry quickly turned to shock as he took in the scene - Ambrose anxiously standing with his wand uselessly at his side, an unrecognizable wizard pointing a wand at Harry, the teen himself who tensely stood gripping a red stone connected to a chain around his neck.
"What is happening?" Mr. Weasley demanded, drawing his wand.
"If you don't leave now, he dies," Voldemort warned sternly, eyes only for Harry.
Harry looked desperately between Mr. Weasley and Voldemort. "Please, don't," he pleaded.
Voldemort's impatience was palpable. He raised a brow expectantly, clearly demanding to be obeyed. With a final, frantic glance at Mr. Weasley, Harry made his choice. He had to trust Voldemort's word, believe he wouldn't harm them if said he wouldn't. He was certain that open rebellion would only bring about horrible consequences.
He closed his eyes. "Safety," he hissed.
Instantly, Harry felt a sharp pull at his navel, and moments later, he found himself in the familiar surroundings of the Slytherin Manor library. Overwhelmed, he collapsed to his knees, fighting the urge to be sick. The enormity of his actions hit him hard – he had betrayed the Light. He had publicly declared trust in Voldemort in front of the entire Wizengamot. He had sealed Dumbledore's fate. He had sealed his own.
Clutching his hair, Harry let out a gut-wrenching scream, louder and more anguished than any he had ever released. The accumulated pain and trauma of the past months crashed over him like a tidal wave. He had irrevocably turned against the light, and everyone would know he had not only sided with Voldemort but willingly returned to his manor.
A wave of uncontrollable magic surged from Harry, violently coursing through the room. Chairs overturned, windows shattered, desks split, and bookshelves crumbled under the force. Tears blurred his vision, yet he was barely aware of the chaos he had unleashed. He'd likely be punished but couldn't bring himself to care. He felt absolutely numb.
Time lost meaning as Harry remained on his knees, arms wrapped around himself in a protective cocoon. It could have been seconds or hours – he wasn't sure. It was only when he felt a familiar magical presence that he was jolted out of his despair.
Harry looked up to see the Dark Lord, now reverted to his original form, standing over him. The tall wizard with crimson eyes surveyed the wrecked room, then shot an amused look at Harry. With a flick of his wand, he magically restored the room to its former state.
"I sometimes forget, given how seldom I witness it, that you are, in fact, a teenager prone to some fits of angst," Voldemort remarked quietly, his gaze lingering thoughtfully on Harry.
Harry averted his eyes, lost for words. He didn't feel embarrassed about his emotional outburst; it seemed justified after all he had endured. Mostly, he couldn't bear the vulnerability of kneeling before Voldemort. With a shaky effort, he stood up, subtly wiping his eyes.
"You performed admirably," Voldemort said, his voice carrying a note of approval.
"I did what I had to. To save them. To show you I'm serious about the deal we made," Harry replied, his voice a mix of disbelief and barely concealed horror. Despite his personal feelings, he couldn't deny the effectiveness of the display. He had no clue how the Slytherin heir had managed to pull it all off to the scale he had. It had far outshone anything Harry had originally planned.
He peered out the freshly repaired windows, noting the daylight. "Did you return early, or has the session concluded?"
"It's still in progress. After allowing your Mr. Weasley to see me, to sense my magic, I had achieved all of my goals and returned shortly after," Voldemort admitted.
"And Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked apprehensively.
"Unharmed. His awareness of the Light's utter defeat is adequate punishment for disturbing me," Voldemort replied with a thin self-satisfied smile. "And I'm certain that he'll convey to the others that you have returned. That you chose me."
Relief and misery swept over Harry. Instead, he asked, "Don't you want to see Dumbledore's downfall yourself? To be certain he doesn't have a trick up his sleeve?"
The expanding smile spreading across Voldemort's face almost seemed genuine. "My loyal followers are there to ensure everything goes as planned. I'm certain of our victory, especially after your marvelous display. Right now, you are my priority; ensuring you're resettled back into our home takes precedence," he stated.
Harry's expression deepened into a frown as the word 'home' reverberated in his mind. He pondered the idea – was this manor now his home? He disliked the conflicting sense of longing and loss that seemed to wrestle within him. After his display in the ministry, it was likely this was now the only place where his presence was truly desired.
He could sense the calculating, scarlet stare fixed on him, observing every aspect of his inner turmoil. He wondered if the Dark Lord might actually understand Harry's confusion better than most, given his own troubled past.
"Welcome back, my apprentice," Voldemort said at last, his voice tinged with something Harry could not fully identify.
Harry locked eyes with him. "We both know I am more than just an apprentice to you," he stated.
Voldemort leaned back, releasing a deep, humorless laugh that filled the room with its ominous resonance. "Indeed," he agreed, his voice a soft, promising hiss. "You are much more."
AN: Thanks for reading! Reviews and reactions are ALWAYS welcome and bring so much joy :)