I hope all my American friends had an excellent Thanksgiving dinner this week. I sure did!
I am very proud of this chapter. I knew early on that this trial was going to happen, and I spent some time really thinking long and hard about what said trial would even be like. I carefully reread every trial scene we have in the books so that I could make this as believable for the Wizarding World as possible. I also didn't want this to take up more than one day, partly because we need to get moving on to the end of summer and the return to Hogwarts, but also because I don't feel as though the Wizarding justice system is designed to draw things out.
A smidgen of dialogue regarding Dumbledore's hand is pulled from HBP, chapter 8 "Snape Victorious".
Drama and angst lie ahead. Enjoy!
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Path Diverged II | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Sirius Black Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Romance Warnings: Disturbing Imagery, Mental Abuse, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 220 Summary: The Wizarding world finally knows that Lord Voldemort has returned, and the Second War has begun. As Harry prepares to enter his sixth year at Hogwarts, he is forced to deal with the trauma from his last encounter with Voldemort, the upcoming trial of Dolores Umbridge, Sirius's uncomfortable questions about his childhood, his budding relationship with Ginny Weasley, and the unknown shadow of what lies ahead as the "Chosen One" who must defeat Voldemort once and for all. This is an AU take of Half-Blood Prince following my previous story, Path Diverged. Hitcount: Story Total: 92603; Chapter Total: 3375 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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“No,” said Ginny, shaking her head as she held up yet another of Harry’s shirts. “What exactly are you looking for?” Harry asked her, left hand worrying at the leather bracelet on his right hand. The trial was happening today. Harry had considered begging for a Dreamless Sleep potion the night before, but decided against it. He was regretting that decision now. His dreams had been rather unpleasant, so he hadn’t slept much. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had arrived at Grimmauld Place early with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny insisting she needed to pick out the proper outfit for Harry to wear while the others could offer their solidarity regarding the somber occasion. After he and Sirius ate breakfast, they were going back to the Burrow where Ministry cars would pick them up, and they would then travel to the Visitor’s Entrance and meet up with Neville and Luna down at courtroom nine. Fleur was not coming along, a fact that Harry could tell Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were both grateful for. “You told me Madam Bones said you should be taking control of your image, right?” said Ginny as she continued to go through the closet. “Gotta dress right for it.” “Uh-huh,” said Harry, bemused. He still didn’t get the point of dressing a particular way. Even though he now had a variety of items that actually fit him, they were all still just… clothes. But Ginny was acting as though the ‘right’ outfit was of immense importance. He decided he’d rather not try to understand and just let her get on with it. “She’s still at it?” came Ron’s amused voice from the door. Harry nodded as Hermione stepped around him and entered the room. “I figure it’s better to just let her do this” – he waved at Ginny’s back as she tossed aside another shirt – “than throw on whatever I happened to touch first,” he said to Hermione, and she giggled. “You figure correctly, Harry,” came Ginny’s muffled voice as she continued to dig through his various articles of clothing. “Now where is that – yes!” She suddenly withdrew, holding a cream-colored button-up shirt and navy trousers. She tossed them to Harry, and he easily caught both articles of clothing as Ginny reached in again, this time pulling out Harry’s black dress shoes, black socks, a jacket, and pants. Harry felt his face go hot as she tossed the socks and pants at him. He caught them and quickly stuffed them out of sight beneath a pillow on his bed. “Ginny, you don’t have to –” “I think you were right, that day in the hospital wing,” Ginny cut him off with a grin. “Our definitions of embarrassing really don’t match.” She marched over to Harry, gave him a firm kiss, and then walked out arm-in-arm with Hermione as Ron sniggered. “She grew up with six brothers, Harry,” he explained with a shrug. “It’s nothing she hasn’t already seen before.” Harry’s could feel his face burning now, and Ron pressed his lips together in an obvious attempt to keep from laughing more. “Anyway, Kreacher’s got food ready in the kitchen, so I’m off for something to eat –” “Didn’t your mum already cook breakfast for you?” Harry asked with raised eyebrows. “Hey, I’m a growing boy!” protested Ron with a grin before he shut the door. Harry rolled his eyes, changed, used the bathroom, and then headed down to the kitchen. Ron was munching on a fried egg and toast while Sirius reviewed their travel plans with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Harry quickly dug into the breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast that Kreacher had prepared while Ginny fussed over the collar of his shirt and played with his hair. It should have been distracting, but Harry instead found it rather soothing to the nervous ache in his gut. All too soon, the group was back at the Burrow, settling into the two Ministry cars that had been sent. Harry was with Sirius and Ginny in their car, while Ron and Hermione were with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in the other. Harry vaguely thought about how this was the first time he’d been outside a place that was specifically cleared for his protection. He hoped nothing would happen at the Ministry that could make it impossible for him to head out to Diagon Alley the next week; his letter from Hogwarts had arrived the day before (and Harry had been pleased to discover that he had been made Quidditch captain, though Ginny did not make prefect), and plans were being made to ensure his and Ginny’s safety for that particular trip. Once the cars arrived at their destination, they took the trip down through the Visitor’s entrance in groups of three. Sirius went first with Harry and Ginny, followed by Mrs. Weasley with Ron and Hermione while Mr. Weasley Apparated in and met them at the entrance. A quick flurry of wand registration soon followed, and then they were in the elevators, heading for the courtrooms deep below. “Department of Mysteries,” came the cool female voice Harry had heard a year ago, and he shuddered, Ginny pressing closer to him. He’d dreamt of this hallway far too often, and being back there… Not to mention that Voldemort had dragged Ginny down this very hallway the first time he’d possessed Harry. “If only Dumbledore had been more honest with you, I could have used your natural curiosity to get you down here months ago…” “He’s wrong,” whispered Ginny, squeezing Harry’s hand firmly as they stepped off the elevator and started down the bare corridor, taking the left right next to the door that led into the heart of the Department of Mysteries and down the steps toward their designated courtroom. Harry nodded to her as they headed down the hallway. He could see Luna and Neville standing with Mr. Lovegood and Mrs. Longbottom. Next to them, he also was surprised to see Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts school nurse, and – Snape. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that the man was here to testify; he had, after all, been the one to put an end to Umbridge’s torture of Harry, but he hadn’t seen the dour Potions – no, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, since term had ended. Sirius had been very careful to ensure that Harry stayed away from Order meetings, and even though a part of Harry still wanted to help, the bigger part of him knew he needed to stay safe so long as his mind remained a ravaged minefield. He couldn’t face Voldemort yet, not like this. “So this is the unmentioned work he was doing for that doddering old fool. It seems he had no reason to tell me, though, because he did exactly as I would have wanted, ensuring your failure in Occlumency,” Voldemort’s voice laughed. Snape looked up and met Harry’s eyes, and Harry quickly looked away, focusing on Ginny’s hand clutching his own. The man knew everything, after all. His need to avoid the comments that might come his way about his childhood took precedence over everything else in that moment. “Professor Snape,” said Mr. Weasley respectfully when they reached the little group. “Mr. Weasley,” Snape returned quietly. “It should be a few minutes before they open the doors.” His black eyes roved over the group before landing on Sirius. “Enjoying your freedom, Black?” “Quite,” answered Sirius tightly, gripping Harry’s shoulder firmly before turning to face Neville’s grandmother. “Mrs. Longbottom, it is a pleasure to see you again, though I wish we could manage less somber circumstances. I do want to thank you again for your permission to visit Frank and Alice.” “As if I would ever deny a true friend of theirs,” said Mrs. Longbottom, accepting the hand Sirius offered. “I should tell you since I missed my chance at our last encounter, that Frank and Alice were among a small contingent of Aurors who argued against Crouch’s policies back in those days and demanded trials for all those imprisoned without one. If it hadn’t been for those Death Eaters that attacked them, I do rather think they would have ensured you the trial you deserved.” Harry looked up at Sirius to see his expression was somewhere between sorrow and rage. “Frank and Alice were good friends,” he said, voice shaking slightly. “I remember when the Aurors brought in the Lestranges and Crouch, Jr. to Azkaban. My cousin Bellatrix spotted me and screamed out what she’d done to them, and I immediately thought of Neville and worried over what his life would be like.” He glanced at Harry. “Neither of you boys deserved what happened to your parents.” Harry met Neville’s eyes and offered a smile. Neville returned it sadly. Little else was said until the doors were opened, and their group was ushered to one side of the courtroom. While not as large as the one Harry had been in the previous summer, it was still quite sizable and imposing. Ginny and Harry sat in between her parents and Sirius on the first row, Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Neville taking the seats on either side of them. Mr. Lovegood, Mrs. Longbottom, Madam Pomfrey, and Snape were in the row behind, though Snape took a seat on the far side, away from Harry. The courtroom slowly filled with members of the Wizengamot, dressed in their plum-colored robes with their insignia embroidered in silver, and a single reporter Harry thought he might have seen at the one and only press conference he had ever attended. Then Draco Malfoy stepped inside with his mother, followed by every member of the Inquisitorial Squad who had been there that day, many of them accompanied by one or both parents. Harry stiffened, and Ginny instantly reacted, pulling his right hand up against her chest so he couldn’t grab at his hand. She leaned against him. “They were witnesses, too,” sighed Sirius, obviously seeing Harry’s reaction for what it was. “I haven’t seen Narcissa in so long. She still looks like she’s got dragon dung under her nose, though,” he added with a quiet laugh. Harry snorted in spite of himself. Narcissa Malfoy was one of two sisters to Bellatrix Lestrange, her other sister being Andromeda Tonks, who had been disowned by the Black family for marrying a Muggle-born. Harry had yet to meet Andromeda, but Sirius spoke of her quite fondly, as did her daughter Tonks. Professor Dumbledore entered with a small group of Wizengamot members, and Harry remembered that he was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, whatever that meant. He decided to ask Sirius. “It means he’s in charge of the Wizengamot,” Sirius answered. “See the extra embroidery on his robes?” He pointed at Dumbledore’s plum robes. “That signifies his status amongst the other members of the Wizengamot.” “How does one become Chief Warlock?” Harry asked him. “It’s an appointed position by the Minister,” said Sirius. “That’s part of how Fudge was able to strip him of his title last year, because he was the one who gave him the position to begin with.” “What happened to his hand?” asked Ginny, and Harry’s eye was drawn to the black and deadened flesh. “It was like that when he took me to convince Professor Slughorn to come out of retirement,” he said as Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna all leaned in to listen. “I thought he’d have cured it by now, though… or Madam Pomfrey would’ve done.” “It looks as if it’s died,” whispered Hermione with a nauseated expression. “But there are some injuries you can’t cure… old curses… and there are poisons without antidotes…” Sirius said nothing from Harry’s other side, instead watching Dumbledore’s trek across the courtroom to his seat in the Wizengamot stands. Harry thought there was a peculiar expression on his face, but before he could asking about it, a man Harry only recognized from the pictures he’d seen of him in the Daily Prophet entered the room. Tall, walking with a slight limp, and with a mane of grey-streaked tawny hair, it was the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. He spotted Harry as he adjusted his glasses and immediately came his way, followed by Percy Weasley (“git” he thought he heard Ron mutter to Hermione) and a small regimen of other men and women, which, strangely enough, included Fudge. Sirius tensed from Harry’s left and rose, stepping in front of Harry. “Good morning, Minister,” he said, voice pleasant enough, but tinged with something stiff and angry. “Black, it is a pleasure to meet you in person at last,” said Scrimgeour, reaching out to shake his hand, but his eyes fixed firmly on Harry. The look he gave Harry made him feel rather uncomfortable, but he held his gaze steady as Ginny firmly clasped his hands in her own. “It has been most pleasant, corresponding with you,” said Sirius in the same tone of voice as before. “I hope you realize my stance has not changed since my last owl.” “Of course, of course,” said Scrimgeour at once, finally looking at Sirius as they dropped their handshake. “I am pleased your godson is determined to testify against Dolores Umbridge. Not many are willing to face those who have done them such wrongs.” Ginny’s hands tightened over Harry’s, preventing him from reacting as he usually did. He was thankful for what she was doing, but starting to worry about how he might react when he had to testify. Being in the public eye in any way had always made him uneasy. “Harry is one of the most determined wizards I’ve ever known,” said Sirius, pride filling every word. “He will make a great contributing member of society when he finishes school.” “Indeed,” said Scrimgeour. “I have heard that he cherishes an ambition to become an Auror?” He looked at Harry again. “Yeah,” said Harry before Sirius could speak, rising to stand next to his godfather and Ginny standing with him, still holding tightly to his right hand. “That’s right. Where’d you hear that?” “It came up in the investigation,” said Scrimgeour, looking rather pleased that Harry was at last speaking for himself. “We are, of course, planning to hold Dolores accountable for all of her actions at Hogwarts this past school year.” Just then, Lee Jordan walked in, followed by a couple of younger students Harry knew by sight but not by name, the younger students accompanied by their parents. “I speak,” said Scrimgeour, “mainly of the detentions she doled out with the quill you described to Gawain Robards and Marcus Proudfoot when they interviewed you in June.” “Right,” said Harry as Ginny clutched tightly at his right hand. “I knew about Lee Jordan, but not anyone else.” “It appears she subjected very few students to these particular detentions,” said Scrimgeour with a nod, “though it would seem that you were, unfortunately, her main target.” “Yeah,” said Harry coldly. “I noticed that.” He pulled his hand away from Ginny and held it up, fist clenched so the words stood out against his skin. I must not tell lies. Voldemort’s laughter echoed distantly in his mind, but he ignored it as he met the Minister’s gaze with him own. Scrimgeour glanced at the words on his hand before nodding. “I think the Wizarding community owes you a great debt, Mr. Potter,” he said, “and I rather hope we get the chance to speak in person again, soon.” He nodded to his entourage, and they moved to take their seats as Lee Jordan and the other students settled down on the bench behind Harry’s group. Harry realized as he took his seat again that Percy had not once met his family’s eyes, and he heard Mrs. Weasley give a watery sob from Ginny’s other side. He remembered that Hermione had overheard Dumbledore speaking to Mr. Weasley about Percy late one night, having said that it was often easier to forgive others for being wrong than it was for being right. Harry rather hoped Percy would get his act together soon. It was clear that Mrs. Weasley missed him terribly. He remembered that Percy had sent back his traditional Weasley jumper the previous Christmas, gift unopened. Dumbledore suddenly rose, and the courtroom was silenced. “Thank you to everyone here for coming on this rather somber occasion,” he began, voice loud and ringing in the vast space. “Please bring in the accused.” The doors opened, and two Aurors marched in, Dolores Umbridge between them. Her squat form was rather obscured by the prison robes she wore, and her hair looked rather unkempt. Her toad-like face was much paler than normal, and seemed to sag as though she’d not been eating as much and lost an unfortunate amount of weight too quickly. Harry couldn’t help but hope that last part was true. Ginny held tightly to Harry’s hands as the Aurors deposited Umbridge in the chair with chains, which immediately sprang into the life to bind her to where she sat. She can’t hurt me, Harry told himself firmly, hating that he had to see her again. He kept his face blank as his emotions roiled beneath the surface. The laughter, which had faded, was back. He tightened his jaw and ignored it. “We are here today,” said Dumbledore, “for the trial of Dolores Jane Umbridge for crimes committed whilst working as a teacher, High Inquisitor, and Headmistress of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. “The charges we shall be hearing evidence of today are as follows: That Dolores did willingly subject no less than four students to detentions using a special quill she designed without authority to write in the students’ own blood while cutting the words written into the back of their dominant hand, which is in direct violation of paragraph K of the Meridee’s Law, also known as the Wizarding Child Protection Law, 1895, as well as the Hogwarts Rules and Regulations, 1950, paragraph M, and the Control and Regulation of Wizarding Inventions, paragraph G, subsection 8.” There were murmurs from the members of the Wizengamot at this, but Dumbledore ignored these and pressed on. “That she did attempt to use Veritaserum on an underage wizard to extract information without guardian consent or the child’s knowledge, which is a violation of the Regulations for the Rights and Protections of Underage Witches and Wizards, 1901, paragraph E.” Harry shifted, recalling that uncomfortable experience. “That she did authorize students who were a part of her Inquisitorial Squad to use physical force and harm upon other students, which constitutes an offense against the Hogwarts Rules and Regulations, revision of 1966, paragraph N.” Harry met Malfoy’s eyes, and he scowled and looked away. “That she did, with full intent to harm, illegally authorize two dementors to attack two underage males in a Muggle neighborhood, which is in direction violation of section thirteen of the International Confederation of Wizards’ Statute of Secrecy. And lastly, that she did make use of the Cruciatus Curse no less than twenty-seven times on an underage wizard in the space of thirty minutes, which constitutes an offense under paragraph B of Meridee’s law…” The air seemed to have vanished from Harry’s lungs. Twenty-seven times? “Do you know how many times she used the Cruciatus Curse?” “I – I lost track.” Harry was dimly aware of the mutterings in the courtroom now over this last charge, and he felt Sirius wrapping an arm around his shoulders as Ginny squeezed his hands tightly to keep them from moving. “Breathe,” she whispered to him. “You’re here, you’re safe, she can’t hurt you.” It was a bit hard to believe that when she was sitting mere feet away from him, but she was chained, not looking at him, and the room was filled with people who would more than likely believe and support him when he testified. He forced himself to breathe as Ginny commanded, and slowly felt his tense muscles relax. “Interrogators are as follows: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; Rufus Oberon Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic; Pius Nathaniel Thicknesse, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Court Scribe, Melody Clara Pond.” Dumbeldore paused, looking down at Umbridge as a witch with a wild mass of golden curls paused in her scribe notes, looking expectantly at the Chief Warlock. Dumbledore started with calling up witnesses: Lee Jordan and the two other Hogwarts students were the first to go, the headmaster kindly questioning them about the use of the quill Umbridge used and what they had been forced to write. The two other students had minimal scarring, but Lee’s was more pronounced (I must not talk back to my teacher could just be made out on his dark skin). The members of the Inquisitorial Squad were called up next and asked about the physical restraints they had used against Harry’s friends. Draco Malfoy had held no one down and only confessed to confiscating Harry’s wand on Umbridge’s orders, shooting Harry a tiny smirk as he discussed his actions that day. Each of them, however, had little defense as to why they did nothing regarding Umbridge’s use of the Cruciatus Curse other than, “we were ordered to hold the others, nothing more.” “We all knew what Professor Umbridge could be like if she was angry,” said Malfoy, the last member of the squad to give his testimony. “I’d already seen her argue with Potter numerous times in our classes, so it was very clear to not only myself, but also to the others who joined the Inquisitorial Squad, that the best way to have a safe and uneventful school year was by supporting everything she did, and following her every instruction to the letter.” “Did you desire that she use the Cruciatus Curse on Mr. Potter?” asked Scrimgeour with narrowed eyes. “An irrelevant question, Minister,” answered Malfoy with ease, looking every inch his father’s son in that moment. “Regardless of the choices Professor Umbridge made this past school year, my only intention on that particular day was to follow her directions and nothing else. My aim is, and has always been, to support those in power.” He rubbed at his left arm almost absently as he spoke. Harry narrowed his eyes at this action, wondering… After Malfoy’s testimony, Dumbledore called on Madam Pomfrey. The matron described Neville’s state of shock, the minor injuries she treated for Harry’s friends as well as the Inquisitorial Squad members, and then her findings regarding Harry. “Healer training includes the use special diagnostic spells in known cases of the use of the Cruciatus Curse,” Madam Pomfrey said in her usual, no-nonsense voice. “I was able to ascertain roughly how many uses of the curse are used based on damage to both the nervous system and internal injuries. My findings for Mr. Potter were that the Cruciatus Curse had been used approximately twenty-seven times.” “How accurate would you say the diagnostic spell is?” asked Pius Thicknesse. “It has an accuracy rate of ninety-seven percent,” answered Madam Pomfrey easily. “I have no doubt as to its accuracy in this case. The woman was both severe and frequent in her use of the curse on Mr. Potter.” Dumbledore nodded and looked at Umbridge. “What reasoning do you have to justify using an Unforgivable on a fifteen-year-old boy, Dolores?” Harry stiffly watched the woman squirm a bit. “He wouldn’t talk,” she finally spat. “He and his friends broke into my office and then he refused to tell me who he was contacting. I simply wanted him to tell the truth.” All Harry could see was the piece of parchment he had used in his detentions, covered in the words he’d written in his own blood, the back of his hand searing, dripping on the paper as he worked silently. I must not tell lies, I must not tell lies… “Harry, look at me.” Ginny’s voice broke through the flashback, and he stared into her bright brown eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath and nodding as he became aware of his surroundings once more. Professor Snape was next to testify. He admitted to knowing of Sirius’s innocence and only spoke of communicating with the man in vague terms that Dumbledore let him get away with. He was questioned about the Veritaserum he had given to Umbridge. “She ordered it, and as the newly appointed Headmistress, I had to comply,” he told the Wizengamot calmly. “I instructed her that three drops were more than sufficient for a single individual, but on the afternoon of the eighteenth of June, she demanded more, at which time I realized she had more than likely used the entire bottle in her interview of the person she wished to interrogate.” “Did you know which person she planned to interrogate the first time?” asked Scrimgeour, brows furrowed. Snape nodded. “She informed me on the twenty-first of April that she wished to use it to interrogate Mr. Potter. I advised her on its use and thought no futher of it until she demanded more.” “To interrogate Mr. Potter again?” “Yes, Minister,” said Snape. He went on to explain his perspective on the afternoon of the eighteenth of June, and spoke of what he found when he had returned to Umbridge’s office. “I could hear screaming,” he said, eyes fixed on the Wizengamot, “as well as shouting and laughter. Then I clearly heard Professor Umbridge shout the Cruciatus Curse, which was followed by more screaming. Realizing that she was likely using an Unforgivable Curse on underage students, I immediately entered the room to discover the subject of the Curse was Mr. Potter. I had… no choice but to act.” “No choice,” echoed Pius Thicknesse. “Can you explain what you mean by that, Professor Snape?” “Teachers have a duty to protect students from harm,” Snape answered. “It is no secret that Mr. Potter and I do not get along, but my duty as a teacher supersedes any personal feelings I may have for the student in question. I Stunned Professor Umbridge, and Mr. Potter’s friends immediately fought to free themselves, creating a rather chaotic struggle that resulted in the members of the Inquisitorial Squad also being Stunned, and Mr. Longbottom’s wand being snapped in two. Once the chaos settled, I had Mr. Weasley and Miss Lovegood escort Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing to be treated for shock. Miss Granger was sent to fetch other teachers as well as Madam Marchbanks of the testing committee, and Miss Weasley remained behind with Mr. Potter while I ascertained the injuries of both himself and the other students. I also saw fit to bind Professor Umbridge’s hands as she had been… caught in the act, so to speak.” After Snape’s testimony was finished, Dumbledore called to adjourn for a lunch break lasting thirty minutes. Harry wasn’t hungry, but he forced himself to eat a couple of the chicken sandwiches Mrs. Weasley had packed for them all. “Are you all right?” Ginny asked him quietly. He swallowed hard and shook his head, unable to put up a front for her. “I lost track of how many times,” he whispered. “Did – did you know?” Ginny shook her head. “None of us did,” she answered. She hesitated. “Snape’s testimony wasn’t as horrible as I thought it’d be.” “The lack of insults was weird,” Harry agreed with a tiny smile. Before they knew it, the thirty minutes were up, and everyone was seated in the courtroom once more. Dumbledore began to call up Harry’s friends one by one, starting with Neville, who was followed by Luna, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. Hearing Neville describe Harry’s torture was incredibly difficult. “I knew – what had happened to my parents,” he told the Wizengamot in a choked-up voice, “but to actually see what it looked like – I couldn’t think straight, and everyone said I was in shock. I – I guess I was, because I remember trying to get my wand, but not a lot else until I was in the hospital wing drinking a Calming Draught.” “Harry is very brave,” said Luna during her testimony, “but seeing him like that was… scary. He wouldn’t talk, you see, he’s very loyal to the people who love him, and I don’t think Professor Umbridge liked that about him at all.” “He wouldn’t give in, wouldn’t let us say anything,” Ginny explained during her turn, brown eyes filled with rage as Hermione clutched at Harry’s hands. “And she just kept going no matter what any of us said, and we begged her to stop, to show mercy, but she – I think she hates him so much that the whole thing became more about hurting him than actually getting him to talk by the time Professor Snape came back.” “She had this mad look on her face,” said Ron angrily when he was called up, “like she was enjoying what she was doing to him, you know? A lot of her Inquisitorial Squad had the same look on their faces, too, like they were getting off on the whole thing, and that’s just sick, isn’t it?” He shot a glare at the Slytherin students. “Enjoying watching someone get cursed…” He trailed off and shook his head. “I saw a Muggle have something called a grand mal seizure once,” said Hermione when it was her turn. “This – it was something like that, but it was so much worse because Harry was sc-screaming and – it was something being done to him rather than his body doing that to itself.” She had tears running down her face as she explained. Then it was Harry’s turn. He couldn’t help but notice the eager expression on the face of the reporter as Harry took a seat that was placed far enough forward that he didn’t have to look at Umbridge. “Harry,” began Dumbledore calmly, “I would like to start with the events on the second of August one year ago. The Wizengamot heard snippets of your testimony regarding the attack upon yourself and your cousin Dudley Dursley by two dementors as well as testimony given by Arabella Doreen Figg last summer, but I would like to hear your full testimony regarding this event before we move forward.” Harry nodded and quietly recounted the experience, including vague details of the fight he and his cousin had been having prior to the arrival of the dementors. He carefully described what each dementor did, as well as his own actions to defend himself and his cousin. “When did you learn to conjure a corporeal Patronus?” asked Scrimgeour with interest. “My third year,” answered Harry. “Professor Remus Lupin taught me because I… struggle a bit more than most when dementors are around.” “What do you see when dementors are near?” asked Thicknesse. “I do not see how this is relevant to his testimony, Pius,” interrupted Dumbledore. “It’s a good question, though,” said Scrimgeour. “The Patronus Charm is incredibly difficult to learn and is not normally taught to thirteen-year-olds. I think the answer to Pius’s question would clear up why a teacher would decide on teaching a child such an incredibly complex spell.” Harry clenched his jaw, but decided to answer. “I hear Voldemort murdering my parents,” he forced out. Several members of the Wizengamot gasped, as did Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Longbottom. “I hear my dad telling my mum to take me and run, and I hear her pleading Voldemort not to kill me while he tells her to step aside. Then I hear her refuse before Voldemort kills her, too.” He realized he was shaking and glared at the Minister. “Every single time a dementor gets near me, I relive the only memory I’ve got of my parents all over again.” He continued to glare at Scrimgeour and Thicknesse, who both looked rather abashed. Dumbledore’s expression was one of great sadness. Voldemort was laughing in his head again, but Harry took a steadying breath and met Ginny’s eyes, seeing the love in them and focusing on that, instead. After a moment, Scrimgeour said, “I am… sorry to have pushed you on this matter, Mr. Potter.” Harry gave a jerking nod, noticing that Snape was sitting rather stiffly, dark eyes fixed on Harry and an unreadable expression on his face. Harry wondered what he thought of that knowledge, that the only thing Harry remembered about his mother was her pleading for Harry’s life over her own. He looked at Sirius and saw his grey eyes shining with unshed tears, but when he spoke, his voice was steady. “I would request that my godson only answer questions directly related to this trial from here on out,” he said as he rose to face the Wizengamot, “or I will step in and end the questioning myself. In fact, I demand that all questions related to his ability to cast a Patronus be expunged from the official trial record.” “Agreed,” said Dumbledore at once, gesturing to the court scribe to do just that as Sirius sat down again. “Moving on, Harry, I need to ask you about the detentions you served with Dolores Umbridge during the first two weeks of term.” After having heard Lee and the other students describe their detentions, this was a bit easier for Harry to manage. “She kept insisting that Voldemort wasn’t back,” he said, “and I… I was struggling after having watched him come back and seeing Cedric Diggory die, and I couldn’t – I couldn’t not say anything. It felt like an insult to Cedric’s memory to suggest his death had been anything but murder.” He described the detentions easily enough, but harder to explain was his rationale behind his decision to not speak to any adults. “Hermione said that Umbridge’s speech at the Opening Feast meant that the Ministry was interfering at Hogwarts,” he said, unsure he could really explain himself. “It sounded like you didn’t really have authority over her, Professor, and… I felt like she was looking for weakness from me, and I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d gotten to me in that way.” There was a pause before Dumbledore spoke. “I wish you had told me, Harry,” he said softly. “Our laws are very clear regarding the punishment of underage wizards, and I believe that Cornelius Fudge would not have let this treatment of you pass so freely.” Harry stared right at Fudge, who was cowering slightly behind Scrimgeour. “I don’t share your belief, Headmaster,” he stated, making sure his voice was clear. “Professor Umbridge was going to authorize Mr. Filch the right to use physical punishment for misbehavior in direct violation of the laws you mentioned earlier, the ones protecting students from harm. I saw him carrying the paper that would have allowed him to do it the night Fred and George Weasley left Hogwarts. He was ready to whip them with full permission from Professor Umbridge, and since she had the full support of Mr. Fudge…” He deliberately trailed off with a glare at the ex-Minister. A lot of heads turned to look at Fudge, who was quite red in the face as he sank down in his seat. Harry felt a stab of bravery at the cowed expression on the man’s face. “I really think the Ministry has a lot of wrongs that need to be set right in order to earn the kind of approval they seek,” he added, giving Scrimgeour a deliberate look, which the Minister returned in equal measure. “Indeed,” said Dumbledore with a faint smile, his blue eyes tinkling as merrily as ever. “I believe we have sufficiently covered the detentions, Harry, so I would now like to move onto the use of Veritaserum when Dolores Umbridge was appointed Headmistress in my absence.” Harry confidently explained that meeting, making sure to give credit to Moody’s paranoia that prevented him from drinking the tea she had offered. He was sure she was glaring at him from her chair, but didn’t turn and look. “She wanted to know where you’d gone, sir, but since I didn’t know, that was easy enough to answer without lying. Then she wanted to know where Sirius was, but even though I knew, there was no way I’d tell her. No to mention, the place he was hiding out in was protected by a Secret Keeper, so I doubt I could’ve told her the truth even if I had drunk the tea.” “This is quite true,” said Thicknesse. “Veritaserum does not work against such an enchantment. Please, continue, Mr. Potter.” “She kept pushing for information, but then Fred and George Weasley set off their whole stock of Weasleys’ Wildfire Whiz-Bangs downstairs, so she was busy trying to figure out how to deal with that the rest of the day.” Harry couldn’t help but smile, remembering how disheveled and soot-blackened she’d been, chasing the fireworks around all day. “Easily the best fireworks out there, I’d reckon.” The Weasley’s were all grinning appreciatively from their seats. “I am sorry I was not there to see the display,” said Dumbledore merrily, “though I must confess that I am quite pleased that you did not drink the tea she offered you. Having seen the effects of the standard three drops yourself, I would hate to imagine what an entire bottle would have done.” “It would not have been pleasant, I’m sure,” said Scrimgeour with a nod. “Might I ask for your expert opinion, Severus?” “It is possible to overdose on Veritaserum,” said Snape, rising from his seat as all attention shifted to him. “Undoubtedly Mr. Potter would have ended up in the hospital wing had he not developed a healthy paranoia regarding accepting food and drink from those he does not trust.” That was practically a compliment, Harry thought as he saw the surprised expression on Ginny’s face. Then came the events from the eighteenth of June. This was the part Harry had been dreading. “Why did you break into Umbridge’s office?” asked Scrimgeour. “Hermione said I needed to check that Sirius was safe another way,” Harry answered, trying to quell the anxiousness he was beginning to feel. “He was supposed to be safe in the place he was hiding in, and he knew he wasn’t supposed to leave, but I didn’t know any other way to check than to use Umbridge’s office. She’d told me herself that her fire was the only one not being monitored by the Ministry, so we devised a quick distraction that was supposed to get me in just long enough to check that he was safe.” “Did you receive verification that he was safe?” “No,” said Harry. “His house-elf was there and lied to me, said that Sirius was gone.” He couldn’t stop himself from looking at Narcissa Malfoy. “It seemed he’d been ordered to lie to me by other members of the Black family.” She stared coolly back at him, not saying a word, and Harry forced himself to move on. “Umbridge saw right through the distraction my friends set up and had her Inquisitorial Squad gather them up. She came back to her office and pulled me out of the fire by my hair while she waited for the others to bring in my friends. She – she threw me against her desk when I wouldn’t tell her who I was trying to contact and had Draco Malfoy go get Professor Snape to demand more Veritaserum from him. When he arrived, he said she’d used all he had, and it would take a month to brew more, and she got angry and sent him away, which was when I told him about Sirius being captured as vaguely as I could manage. He – well, he acted like he didn’t know what I was saying and left.” He hesitated, feeling his hands start to shake a bit at what he had to talk about next. “She – Umbridge was angry, and she started talking to herself about having no other alternative and that it was a matter of Ministry security, and then she insisted she had to use the Cruciatus Curse to get me to talk.” “Specifically you,” said Thicknesse. “She did not speak of using an Unforgivable on any of your friends?” “No, sir,” said Harry. “Just – just me. Hermione reminded her it was illegal, said that Fudge wouldn’t want her to break the law, but she just said that – that what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.” Fudge was pale, Harry noticed. “That’s when she admitted to sending the dementors after me,” he added. “Did she explain her reasoning for doing so?” asked Dumbledore. Harry nodded. “She said the Ministry wanted to discredit me for insisting Voldemort was back, and that she decided she would actually do something about it. She knew Fudge would be delighted to be given the chance to expel me. I mean, there was no way to survive a dementor attack without using magic, after all, so she thought he’d be rid of me, either way.” Fudge flushed again as people in the courtroom eyed him distrustfully. “Was this when she used the Cruciatus Curse on you?” asked Thicknesse. Harry nodded. “She –” His hands were shaking more than before. “She’d curse me, and then ask if I was ready to talk. I told her no. Every time.” “Why did you not wish to tell her the truth of what you were doing?” asked Thicknesse. “She already thought I was a liar,” said Harry, “but Luna had it right. I don’t betray the people I care about. I wasn’t about to risk Sirius, and I just – I kept her attention on me so she wouldn’t think to hurt anyone else.” “A rather noble thing you did, Mr. Potter,” said Scrimgeour. Then he asked the question Harry had been expecting, the same question he had asked each of Harry’s friends: “Why would you do that, though, insist on keeping yourself in harms’ way for the sake of your friends?” “That’s just what Harry does,” had been Neville’s answer. “I’ve never known him to be any other way.” “I think he cares more about us than himself, actually,” was what Luna had said in her usual blunt but truthful way that left Harry feeling uncomfortable. “He almost died to save me from a basilisk three years ago,” had been Ginny’s response, “and I was only Ron’s little sister back then. Harry has always put himself at risk to protect the people he cares about, and I can’t see him being any other way.” “That’s part of what makes him Harry,” was Ron’s shrugging reply. Hermione’s answer, much like Luna’s, had been rather unsettling. “I think Harry’s loyalty to his friends is more important to him than his own life. He’s determined to always try and do what is right instead of what is easy, even if it means he gets hurt along the way.” “You see, the answers from your friends are rather telling in a way,” Scrimgeour pressed when Harry did not immediately answer. “I find myself curious as to why you constantly place the safety and well-being of others before yourself.” “Harry puts everyone else before himself,” Ginny’s words to Aunt Petunia suddenly echoed in Harry’s mind. “He has always done that, but I get it now. He puts everyone else first because you taught him that his worth is below everyone else, that everyone else comes before him.” “I don’t know how to be any other way,” Harry finally answered. “Spoken like the abused child you really are,” Umbridge suddenly snarled from behind him, and Harry sprang to his feet before he had fully processed the words, spinning around to face the chained woman, wand pointed directly at her face. “Don’t,” he bit out, hating that his wand was shaking, and Umbridge laughed, the sound mixing with the cold laughter echoing in his mind. “You thought I couldn’t tell, Mr. Potter?” she shouted, voice lacking any of the girlish qualities she usually pushed into it. “The way you sat there and let me hurt you?” “Dolores, you will desist at once!” shouted Scrimgeour from behind Harry. Umbridge shook her head and leaned as far forward as she could in her chains. “Abused children will always allow their abusers to keep hurting them because they know, deep down, that they deserve to be punished!” Harry couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything in the face of the realization that somehow, she knew. Everything was suddenly too loud, and he was scared and lost, desperate for air, wanting only to escape, and then hands touched him, but Harry didn’t know them, and they suddenly were gone with shouts of pain. And then Ginny was there. Harry recognized her flowery scent instantly in the haze of fear that had enveloped him and pulled her to him, burying his face in a floral haze and inhaling deeply as she wrapped her arms around him. He could feel her chest moving in an even pattern of in and out that he followed religiously as he willed himself to focus on what was real. Ginny was real, maybe the only real thing he knew with any amount of certainty. “Harry.” It was Sirius. Harry lifted his head, and his godfather’s face swam into view. “C’mon,” he said tightly, “we’re leaving.” Ginny pulled away, holding his right hand tightly, and Harry was finally able to take in the courtroom again. The two Aurors stood before Umbridge, wands pointed at her, grim expression on their faces. Umbridge’s mouth was clamped shut by a strange contraption Harry hadn’t seen before, but hoped was painful. His friends were still in their benches, Ron looking ready to punch something while Hermione and Luna were both as pale as Mrs. Longbottom and Mrs. Weasley. Umbridge tilted her head slightly and met Harry’s eyes, and he felt his resolve steel itself. “No,” he found himself saying. “I’m not done.” He pushed Sirius away and returned to the chair he’d been sitting on, but this time he didn’t let go of Ginny’s hand, and she crammed herself into the seat with him without question. “Harry,” said Dumbledore, clearly quite worried, “are you sure you wish to continue?” “I am, sir,” Harry said firmly, ignoring the Slytherin students to his right and keeping his eyes fixed on Dumbledore. “Even with her claims of abuse?” pressed Scrimgeour. Harry steeled himself. “Yes, Minister,” he said. “Umbridge chose to use the Cruciatus Curse on an underage wizard, and it is one of the worst experiences I have ever endured… but I would choose a million times over to have been the outlet for her rage than to let my friends suffer directly at her hands.” He clutched at Ginny’s hand as he straightened, facing a room of adults with every ounce of bravery he possessed. “That is who I am. If it’s in my power to protect the people I love, I’ll do it. I know that makes it sound like I have no regard for my own life, but… I’m a survivor. I am what I’ve been made from the night Voldemort killed my parents.” He looked at Ginny. “I’m someone who cares, who loves, and who takes a stand when no one else will because it is right.” He turned his direct attention back up at the Wizengamot. “Umbridge wanted to see me destroyed because of that, and everything she’s done has been to that end goal. No matter what it takes, I will never allow anyone to destroy who I am.” Harry’s words rang out in the silent chamber, and Ginny gently squeezed Harry’s hand with both of her own. Suddenly, Scrimgeour rose and began to clap. Sirius and Harry’s friends followed this almost immediately, and before Harry knew it, nearly every person in the courtroom was on their feet, applauding loudly, and Harry could see the look of pride on Sirius’s face. “I think,” Scrimgeour called out, “that we are privileged today to be in the presence of a true hero.” The words were embarrassing, but Harry focused on Ginny’s presence next to him so he wouldn’t react in his usual way. “Are we ready to vote on the verdict?” “I believe we are,” answered Dumbledore, gesturing for everyone to sit and allowing Harry to return to his spot next to Sirius, Ginny’s hand still clasped in his own. “For her crimes against every student who has spoken today, I propose that Dolores Jane Umbridge spend no less than sixty years in Azkaban. Those in favor?” Every single hand within the Wizengamot rose as one. Dumbledore’s eyebrows were raised in amazement as he looked around, taking in the voting results. “A unanimous vote has been declared,” he proclaimed. “Aurors, please take the prisoner away.” The Wizengamot broke into applause again, and Harry’s friends and family joined in, Ginny throwing her arms around Harry and kissing him firmly as the Aurors escorted Umbridge out of the courtroom, never to darken Harry’s life again. |
| Reviews 220 |
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