Apprentice Potter
Grievances
By Draco664
Grievances
I couldn't believe Hermione actually managed to sit there quietly for almost ten minutes without bursting with agitation and curiosity. In all the time I've known her, I honestly cannot think of another time where she has sat still for so long without anything to keep her attention. I was incredibly glad for the respite, given my earlier performance. Now that I was sitting down calmly, my recent magical exertions began catching up with me.
"Harry? Does this have to do with what happened at the end of term?" she offered, her voice a little rough from non-use.
I took a deep breath in an effort to dispel the fatigue I felt, and looked up at her. It took me all of my will power not to jump at the sight of Dudley and Aunt Petunia standing in the doorway waiting for me to answer her. I paused for a few seconds to get my heart rate back under a hundred and nodded.
"Over there." I said abruptly, gesturing vaguely towards the torn scraps of parchment that remained of the missive those bastards in the Wizengamot deigned to send me. She swallowed nervously and stood, quickly moving over to retrieve the fragments.
Damn, she's a fast reader. In less than five seconds she had the bloody letter reassembled, scanned, understood and probably committed to long term memory. No wonder she can study so much in so little time. My gut lurched as the thought of just how much better I could have been at protecting my mind if I'd accepted her help.
"Oh, Harry. This doesn't mean that you are responsible! That is just a standard letter they send to everyone."
I raised an eyebrow, clearly displaying my skepticism. "Yeah. Right. Did your letter tell you that you would be required to admit culpability for a death and several injuries to some idiotic students who were in the wrong place?"
Hermione swallowed, but shook her head. She opened her mouth to reply when Dudley butted in.
"What the hell is going on? What did you do?"
I focused my gaze on my fat cousin, feeling nothing but contempt for him. "Do you remember those dementors, Dud?" I asked. Now there's a bloody rhetorical question if there ever was one.
Heh, there's something else I really should commit to memory. I haven't seen his face pale so quickly in years. Not since just after the pig tail incident. He stepped slightly behind his mother and gave a small squeak, sort of like you'd expect if you trod on a mouse. Maybe I won't need to ask the twins for help after all.
"Well, the woman who set those on us was pretty high up in the Ministry." I continued, before being interrupted quite suddenly.
"What do you mean, 'set them on to you?" my Aunt snapped, her gaze so piercing I was afraid I was going to start having McGonagall flashbacks.
"She works for the Ministry. After I used magic to drive the dementors off, she tried to have me expelled for using magic out of school. They wanted to discredit me for saying the Voldemort was back at the end of school last year. Now that he has actually shown his ugly face in public, at the Ministry of Magic no less, they are trying to cover their arses so quickly that they're giving themselves rather painful wedgies." I continued flatly.
Aunt Petunia's face coloured almost as quickly as her son's had gone white a few seconds before. "My Dudley was attacked because they wanted to expel you?" she shrieked in a disbelieving voice. "He almost lost his soul just to make you look like a liar? I'll kill them myself! Those bastards!"
My surprise must have shown on my face, there was no way I could have keep it hidden. I had never really thought of her as being smart, especially since she has made deluding herself a full time job when it comes to Dudley and his gang. But I had really expected her to blame me, just as my Uncle did right after the incident in question. After this outburst though, I'd wager that she can be far more intimidating than her husband.
Before my Aunt could explode, Hermione butted in. Maybe she isn't as smart as I thought. "Mrs. Dursley, that is what the letter Harry received was about. They are trying to find out exactly what happened. The woman who sent the dementors after Harry and Dudley has been arrested. Harry has been asked to testify at a hearing. The letter was worded to suggest that he was somehow responsible for-"
"I can speak for myself, 'Mione!" I snapped, much more sharply than I meant. I turned back to my Aunt who, while extremely angry, was still more than a little afraid of my reaction to the letter. "I want nothing to do with them. Nothing. If they make me go to this witch-hunt, I'll make sure they wish they never sent that letter."
"Witch-hunt! Good one." chuckled Dudley nervously, obviously trying to inject some humour into the situation. With very little success, I'm afraid, it would be better if it came from someone who hadn't had his sense of humour surgically removed a while ago.
"Shut up Dudley." I said absently, looking down at the remains of the parchment arranged on the table into some semblance of originality.
"Mum!" he whined.
"Shut up Dudley." she said, just as absently, all her attention focused on me. While I'm used to being under her intense gaze, it is usually accompanied with a verbal barrage. This time, she is thinking deeply. Damn, it's disconcerting.
"Who were those people? The ones you just kicked out." she asked evenly.
"The bald, black fellow was the guy the Ministry put in charge of tracking down my godfather after he escaped. In actual fact, he worked with him against Voldemort. The woman who walked around like she had a broom shoved up her arse was a teacher from Ho-, from school. The other two were aurors, but I've never met them before."
It was Hermione's turn to pale suddenly, though I'm not sure whether it was more due to the fact that I'd just insulted McGonagall or that I had nothing but distain and contempt in my voice while doing so.
"Then I imagine that when you do go back in September, you'll get a nice reception." Aunt Petunia smirked.
I was not going to be baited. "I don't care. I've had it with them. All of them." I spat.
"She has a point, Harry." said Hermione. Her face was twisted into an almost adorable expression of nervous apprehension. "There are going to be consequences for what you said today."
"I don't care!" I shouted, standing up so fast that my chair fell over backwards. "Don't you get it? I... don't... care!"
With a broad sweep of my arm, I brushed the jigsaw of parchment pieces off the table. "I've had enough! Enough of being used. Of being lied to. Did you know that I asked Dumbledore four years ago why Voldemort wanted me dead? He wouldn't tell me. Refused to. Then, he had another chance to tell me three years ago. Again, he kept quiet. He has sat on this secret for no other reason than to keep it a secret. And do you know what happened because he kept if from me? Sirius died! You were almost killed! My best friend got attacked by a cross between a giant squid and the remains of a lobotomy!"
It felt good to scream, but I didn't push again. I really don't think I had the energy to do so in any event. Though it was still mid-morning, to me it felt like around ten at night after a strenuous day.
I looked around from Hermione's shocked face to my relative's fearful expressions. I guess they were expecting everything to shatter again. I bet they wished if anything was to burst that it would be a vein in my head. At the rate I was going, I wouldn't be at all surprised.
"Do you know when he decided to tell me?" I ranted, not giving anyone a chance to interrupt. "Right after my stupidity put all my friends in the hospital, and my godfather in the grave. Fucking perfect timing, wouldn't you say?" I snarled.
Hermione's shining eyes were wide, though I couldn't tell from what. Fright maybe, I can't imagine she ever expected to see me like this.
"What did he tell you?" she said so softly I almost missed it.
I shook my head. "I can't... I won't tell you. I don't want to put you in more danger than you are already."
"Exactly how much danger are we in?" snapped Aunt Petunia.
I rounded on her, my anger flaring again. "You're fine. Don't you remember the note that Dumbledore pinned to me when he left me on the doorstep?" I snapped back. "Remember? The one that told you I was a wizard? That one? The information you kept from me until my letter came? To refresh your memory, as long as you took me in, willing or unwilling, you are safe in this house from any dark wizards. Voldemort himself could walk down the street, staring in each window, and he wouldn't be able to see us."
This time, she didn't back away. "Then how did Dudley get attacked last summer?"
I snorted. "Like I said, you are safe from dark wizards. Just not from the fucking government."
~~~
It took Hermione almost an hour to get me calmed down enough to actually listen to what had happened in the days since the end of term. Funny how I had spent several hours each day fantasizing about what I'd like to do to Umbridge and Fudge, generally involving some sort of heavy blunt instrument, only to discover that they were in the process of what Hermione called 'damage control'.
To me it seemed a bit like putting a coat of paint on a sinking ship.
"Mr. Weasley has been given an extended leave of absence too. According to his department, he has only taken a holiday of more than a few days once in the last decade, and that was the summer before our third year. Not that anyone took any notice before, but now Fudge has an opportunity to get someone, whose presence could turn into a major press disaster, out of the Ministry offices for a while."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "Oh, Christ. Does that mean they are in trouble? Financially?"
"Oh no. I have to give Fudge credit here. He is still paying him his full wage, but personally asked him to continue to work for the Order while on leave."
I frowned. "Why the hell would Fudge do that?"
"Don't you see? If anyone asks Mr. Weasley what happened or what is happening, he can't say anything without jeopardizing the work the Order is doing. Fudge gets him out of the public eye, puts him to work doing all he can against Voldemort, and starts to make overtures to everyone he hindered."
"So Fudge has a new political adviser now?" I guessed.
"Yes, but how did you know?" Hermione asked, sounding genuinely surprised.
"Because everything he did last year was so shallow as to be laughable. Assigning a subordinate to a teaching post with no thought to her qualifications. Edict after edict, all written and enacted so quickly the ink was still wet. For Merlin's sake, they banned having a copy of a newspaper! The very definition of censorship. Everything that Fudge, then Umbridge did was childish, giving no thought whatsoever to the long term consequences. All built on top of each other, removing rights and freedoms one by one. One of the edicts passed named Umbridge headmistress! How did that one pass, considering it is the governors who assign and remove the headmaster post? Whoever would have willingly let the Ministry assume the power to intercept and read a student's letters to their family? What kind of person would freely agree to a group of students given the powers of a teacher and called the Inquisitorial Squad? And when you go back over it, it was all built on the basis of one thing; that I was trying to get publicity by lying. Bloody hell, Cedric and I had just won the Triwizard Tournament! I had all the publicity they said I ever wanted!"
You know, proving that I can think for myself really shocks her for some reason. I swear her eyes widened so much during my little rant that they were in danger of popping out. She looks so adorable when she is surprised.
Where the hell did that thought come from?
I shook my head to clear it, focusing on what she was saying.
"-impressed. Did you come up with that yourself?"
I nodded, still a little uncomfortable with what my mind was doing. I took a second to clear my thoughts and check my mental defenses. Yep, still intact.
"I have done a lot of thinking, not much else to do around here really. It just seems so stupid! I mean, what politician would stake the safety of their constituents, not to mention their entire career, on the hope that someone was lying?"
"An idiot." replied Hermione flatly.
"No, it is more than that." I disagreed. "He didn't just try and make me look to be a liar, he actively tried to ruin my life. He tried to get me expelled, and it was only Dumbledore pointing out that he had no grounds to do so that I was able to come back to school last year."
"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.
I sighed. I'd not told her what happened in the hearing. "Fudge called together a full Wizengamot for a simple underage use of magic hearing, which apparently is unheard of. A few of the more thoughtful members suspected something was up when Dumbledore pointed that out to them."
"So he tried to intimidate you?"
"That and more. It started with all the cock and bull you'd expect from a court proceeding, all the names and titles of those present, that sort of thing. Fudge looked really pleased with himself until Dumbledore walked in. Fudge had been banking on the fact that by changing the time and place of the hearing, Dumbledore wouldn't be able to interfere."
"But he sent a notification to the Headmaster, didn't he?" Hermione asked.
"I doubt it. Dumbledore didn't get one in any event. He just happened to get there at the right time. I think Mr. Weasley must have contacted him by fire and he apparated there." I scratched my chin, thinking deeply. "Anyway, They started asking me questions about the time I got a warning when Dobby was here, and the time I blew up my Uncle's sister, but Dumbledore told them that I was brought there on a specific charge, and I wasn't there to defend every bit of magic I ever did."
"Wait a minute! Fudge was actually there? As an interrogator?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Harry, he is the Minister! He makes the laws, it is a conflict of interest for him to participate in the judicial process too!"
"Someone seems to have forgotten to tell him that then." I said wryly.
"I wonder why Professor Dumbledore didn't object?" pondered Hermione.
I grunted. "Probably because he didn't want to risk being thrown out. Let's face it, in a matter of weeks after our fourth year he was thrown off both the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards."
Hermione actually smirked. "Oh yes, that particular fiasco is getting pretty extensive scrutiny too. Everyone now knows that Professor Dumbledore told Fudge after the Tournament that Voldemort was back, no matter how many times Fudge denies it, and that Fudge had him removed from those positions just afterwards. Even the most rabid Ministry supporter has to admit it looks suspicious." She stopped speaking abruptly, as though realising exactly what she was saying. I tried not to laugh as she cleared her throat and continued in a much less vindictive tone of voice. "Anyway, you were saying that Dumbledore told them that you weren't being tried for every bit of magic you've done?"
"Yeah. Then when I said there were dementors, he got all smug and said that he knew I was going to bring up something like that. He was banking on the fact that there were no witnesses, before Dumbledore introduced Mrs. Figg."
"Fudge can't have expected that!"
I snorted at the memory. "He didn't. It seriously looked like he just deflated on the spot. He was most upset that there was a squib living near me. Once he recovered, he tried to sow doubt by suggesting that squibs couldn't see dementors, then when Mrs. Figg described the effects of a dementor he tried to say she wasn't a very convincing witness."
Hermione just shook her head. "That is just wrong. Someone so biased has no business being anywhere near a judiciary hearing!"
"Anyway, Madam Bones stood up for Mrs. Figg. Dumbledore and Fudge argued about clause seven or something, that's when Fudge started blathering about wanting to get the hearing over and done with that day. When Dumbledore said that Dobby was available to testify to the fact that it was him who was responsible for the hover charm that I got the warning for, Fudge got absolutely livid, refusing to listen to any other testimony."
"Then that's probably what sealed it. Regardless of your experience, he has never fully controlled the Wizengamot. He had influence, but Dumbledore had-, has more."
"Wonderful. Sort of makes you wonder if there are any other people out there who didn't have Dumbledore at their hearings, eh?"
"Well it doesn't matter now. Dumbledore is back in charge of-"
"It does matter Hermione!" I shouted. "We live in a world where we have to abide by the rules set down by others who will stop at nothing to do what is necessary to stay in power. Since when was it treason to question the government?"
Hermione swallowed. "Harry, stop. Please stop. Don't get worked up again." she pleaded.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sorry. It's just that, I get so angry!"
"I noticed." she said, with a self depreciating smile. "The hearing finished and you were allowed to return. That is all you could hope for at the time."
"That still didn't stop him and Umbridge from trying to ruin my life. I know I sound like an over exaggerating prick when I say that, but I have had two main talents in the wizarding world. Quidditch and Defense. She banned me playing one for life for something Malfoy gets away with every second week, then during the career interviews we had she stated flat out that while Fudge was Minister, I would never be an auror."
Hermione gasped in shock. "She actually said that?"
"Yep. Right after saying that they don't accept people with criminal records. McGonagall pointed out that I'd been cleared of all charges, and as such don't have a record, but that just made Umbridge even more barmy."
"What do you mean, more barmy?"
I smirked at the memory. "She accused McGonagall of wanting her position as Under-whatever."
We laughed together for a while. It felt good, in its own way, to forget about the world. The fact that we had no homework for the summer meant that for once, Hermione didn't have to badger me to get it done. She told me about the holidays her parents took her on, the places in Europe she had visited over the years. We spoke about our friends, of what plans we had for the rest of the holidays, and of what subjects we hoped to be able to take in the coming year. For the first time in many months, I felt that life may be worth living after all.
I didn't notice that I had dozed off, still knackered from earlier, but I did remember the concerned look Hermione gave me when she placed a blanket over my body before kissing me on the cheek and wishing me pleasant dreams.
~~~
I'm not quite sure what kept me from telling my relatives that Privet Drive would be receiving a rather unique visitor on the 14th, but whatever it was, I was immensely grateful.
By the grace of whatever gods were watching, (or more probably, given my lot in life, interferring) Uncle Vernon had Friday off work. We were just sitting down to lunch when the doorbell rang.
I know it doesn't sound like much, but the particular bell purchased by my Uncle rings for as long as the button at the door is depressed. After just three seconds of a single constant high pitched buzz, Vernon bellowed like a bull whose nuts had just been electrocuted and demanded that since I was closest, I should answer the door. Paraphrasing, of course.
I was not at all surprised to discover that the person leaning on the doorbell had red hair. I sighed to myself, nodded in welcome, then gently but firmly removed the offending digit from the button. "You don't need to hold it down, Mr. Weasley."
"Astonishing, simply astonishing! What wonderful ideas these muggles have, eh Harry?" he said, almost bobbing up and down in excitement at again having the opportunity to visit a totally muggle home. Actually, he is so excited I decided I'd better make sure we had a fresh supply of tissues.
"You're early." I stated calmly, not exhibiting the least amount of emotion.
My tone of voice seemed to penetrate his fervour. "Ah, yes. Well given the fiasco last year, I decided that it would not be out of order to give ourselves plenty of time to get to our destination."
I grunted, not at all willing to let anyone from the wizarding world have the satisfaction of me acknowledging that they were right. "Fine. Come in, I'll just get my wand." I said, turning my back on him.
It was only through morbid curiosity that I left him to his own devices without informing my relatives of his presence. I really wanted to see just how much trouble he could get himself into, given only a limited time. I really should buy a watch with some sort of timer for this sort of experiment. It would be much more scientific.
I collected my wand and shoes from upstairs, studiously ignoring the yells, screams, crashes and other assorted noises emenating from downstairs. I toyed with the idea of taking my invisibility cloak, but decided to leave it behind. As useful as it would be to get past the inevitable throng of press, I certainly didn't want to risk having it confiscated.
I steeled myself, straightened my shoulders and bravely walked down the stairs to inspect the damage. Merlin's balls, in less than a minute he has introduced himself, tried in vain to calm my relative's fears, and was doing his level best to pull the micowave apart to see how it worked. I covered my eyes with my hand and groaned softly. Not even my family deserved this.
"Mr. Weasley, I'll buy you one for Christmas. We really should be leaving." As much as I want to be angry with him, it's too much like being angry at an excited kitten for knocking over a vase after trying to play with the flowers.
"Oh, right you are Harry. It was lovely to meet you again, Mr. Dursley." he said to the large figure bravely quivering in the corner of the kitchen.
My Uncle rounded on me and found his voice. "What do you think you're doing, inviting him in to my house?"
I narrowed my eyes and glared at him with contempt. His rage was rather quickly overtaken by another emotion; I could almost pinpoint the instant that realisation tapped him on the shoulder and handed him a note saying, 'You really shouldn't have said that!' before bolting to a safer place.
Without saying anything, I turned and walked out of the house, a chattering Mr. Weasley on my heels. The sight in front of the house caused me to stop so quickly that he ran into my back, almost knocking me over.
"Sorry Harry! Ah, I see you noticed our mode of transportation!" he bubbled cheerfully.
I almost wished that the Dursleys came to see me out. A long, white, gleaming limousine sat proudly on the road precisely aligned in the center of the property line. A tall, graceful woman with an extremely short skirt stood at attention next to an open door, waiting patiently for us to enter.
"What the hell is this?" I said, resignation in my voice.
"Compliments of the Minister himself." replied Mr. Weasley, sounding rather satisfied with the whole thing.
"Can't we floo or something?"
Mr. Weasley sounded shocked. "Why? Don't you want to travel like this? It was certainly fun getting here."
"I'm sure it was. But if I turn up in this, people are going to think that I'm a pretentious git. If they know it was sent by the Ministry, they may even think that I approve of the way they have handled things."
Mr. Weasley sobered quickly. "I know that the opinion of others matter to you. But extra security has been added, in an effort to-"
"So I have no choice?" I snapped.
Mr. Weasley blinked and swallowed to clear his throat. "I suppose not. At least, not in the way you mean. I will not allow you to take a less secure method of transportation, Harry. I'm sorry."
The woman standing next to the car spoke up, with a depressingly familiar voice. "If you prefer, we can 'tone down' the vehicle, Harry. Make it less conspicuous."
I sneered at her. "Well thanks, Tonks. I didn't recognise you. Actually standing still really threw me out, you haven't knocked over a single thing in almost a full minute."
It was gratifying to see her flush, and I started to seriously wonder exactly how far I could push both of them. I jumped ungraciously into the limo and pulled the door closed myself. I didn't miss the look Tonks gave Mr. Weasley either. He just shrugged and shook his head slightly.
The limo didn't change until after we'd left Privet Drive, which I suppose I was grateful for. Dudley's fat face staring out the front window at me was so green with envy I'd say that if he stepped outside, he'd start undergoing photosynthesis.
"Oh, I almost forgot! Here you go." said Mr. Weasley, handing me a rather official looking piece of parchment.
"What is it?" I asked, making no move to accept it.
"Your OWL results. Albus told me they were quite impressive really."
I reached out and took the parchment, and broke the seal. Well, what do you know, an E in potions, I'm glad there was those questions about Polyjuice Potion, but I guess I won't be an auror then. An O in Defense, yeah, I expected that. What the hell?
"How the hell did I get an E in Divination?" I exclaimed.
Mr. Weasley chuckled. "Apparently after finishing her testing schedule, Professor Marchbanks was leaving the castle when she was knocked over by a plump second year student who had just been the focus of a flurry of water balloons thrown by Peeves. Apparently you told her she would soon be meeting-"
"A soggy stranger, yes I know. Bloody hell, that was just for something to say. I couldn't make out anything in the tea leaves. I even read her palm and said that she should have died the previous Tuesday."
Mr. Weasley smirked. "Yes, Ron told me about your predictions. However, she was supposed to be in France, testing the students from Beauxbatons at that time, but pulled out because her mother was ill. Word got back later that there had been an accident, the train to Beauxbatons crashed that Tuesday. When she found out about it she had a bit of a turn, let me tell you."
I looked back down at my results, still reeling from the news that I'd received an OWL in Divination of all things. E for Charms, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures and Transfiguration. A for Astronomy and a T for History of Magic. Yeah well, having an interrupted examination will do that to you.
Well, eight OWLs. Not bad, not bad at all.
From the reflection in the house windows we sped by, Tonks had obviously changed the outside of the vehicle into an old beat up mini. If she was trying to get an unfavourable reaction out of me, she was shit out of luck. It suited me just fine. Both in its unpretentiousness, and with the fact that when I turned up in a Ministry vehicle as crap as this, Fudge might just get a justifiable lambasting in the media for his attitude towards me.
I stared out of the window, running through my thoughts, arguments and insults I was going to use today. Especially the insults. Last year, I was terrified of what they could to with me, of the power they had over me and my future. This time, I just didn't care.
A most liberating feeling.
~~~
Our arrival at the Ministry was rather amusing to say the least. A large crowd of parasitic vermin who had the word 'PRESS' written all over themselves were waiting for our arrival. As the car arrived, it was waved away from the carpeted entrance by a pair of dour faced bureaucrats so full of their own importance they made Percy look like his father. The car was directed to park at the far end of the lot, out of main view.
The looks on the bureaucrats' faces were absolutely priceless when I stepped out of the car, and made my way to the Ministry entrance. Someone in the gaggle of press noticed me, then shouted my name. When these bastards realised that they had effectively snubbed the very person they were waiting for, well, it was certainly satisfying. The feeling of satisfaction lasted right up until it became apparent that there was absolutely no way I was going to be able to force my way past the mass of bodies suddenly put in my way.
I did my best ignoring the questions being fired at me from all sides. Tonks and another auror I didn't recognise tried vainly to push a path through the nosey pricks, but this was the first time their 'prize' had been available, and the press certainly weren't going to let me get away that easily.
Finally, after remaining stubbornly silent throughout the ordeal, I employed my elbows and knees to very satisfying effect, and managed to force my way through the throng of babbling press and ditzy photographers to the guarded doors. I turned and briefly looked over my shoulder to find that Mr. Weasley had actually managed to stay on my heels.
"You know Harry, I always thought being famous would be fun." he said with a smile, his voice barely carrying over the noise of questions still being fired at us, despite not receiving any answer to any previous ones. Ron's father was still trying to act like everything was normal.
"Yeah, just peachy." I snapped back.
I watched him give a small sigh, probably of frustration. I guess this is a fellow who has raised seven children, including two monsters who have, against all odds, made themselves more successful peddling chaos in three months than Percy has pushing order in three years. One more uncooperative and combative teenager in his life certainly wasn't going to faze him too much. For the first time, I wondered where he gets his patience from. Given he managed to raise Fred and George, he must have it delivered to The Burrow at wholesale rates. In bulk.
We walked through the doors together and past the two aurors stationed in the corridor behind. The sound of the intrusive bastards outside was blissfully cut off as the doors slammed shut behind us. The guards sighed in relief, and nodded to us. Mr. Weasley gave them a smile, I graced them a snarl.
"Come along, Harry. We are running late." he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. Irritated, I rolled my shoulder to dislodge the unwanted contact.
What the hell is wrong with people? Can't they just leave me alone?
After performing the required 'wand weighing', we briskly made our way into the bowels of the building. Several people stopped and stared at us as we passed. Bastards. Are they trying to make me feel like a rat in a cage?
It is after two by they time we made it to the same place I was interrogated last year. Walking through the horrifyingly familiar doors, my heart began thumping painfully loudly in my chest. This time, I actually have enough presence of mind to take in my surroundings.
Looking around, I got chills from the familiar setting of a similar room in which Dumbledore managed to convince a corrupt Wizengamot that I was not guilty last year. Mind you, I doubt Dumbledore would call them corrupt. He'd call them something rather sanitized, like 'misguided', or perhaps 'ill-informed'. Maybe even 'inept', if he was feeling particularly and brutally honest. But as far as I'm concerned, any group of people who are charged with enforcing wizarding law that also bow quickly to pressure from those who make those very same laws are morally corrupt in the first place.
The sanctimonious pricks are all there again, staring down at me. I swallow, and do my best to ignore their stares, and casually look round the auditorium.
Oh, that was a mistake. If I thought the throng of press outside was intimidating, the row upon row of spectators with hungry expressions in here filled me with dread. Easily three times the number of reporters are scattered throughout the room than there were outside.
I sensed rather than saw Mr. Weasley stiffen behind me, and overheard his sharp intake of breath. Fingering the comforting weight of my wand hidden in my sleeve, I turned to see what was wrong. A short, thin wizard in a shimmering robe was quickly approaching us. The newcomer's hair was dark and slick with oil, while his pale skin glistened with an unhealthy sheen. Ugh, if I ever needed something to remind me of Snape, I'll just have to bring this guy to mind.
"Ah! Finally! Arthur, you really should be more punctual."
The expression on Mr. Weasley's face was certainly memorable. The only time I have ever seen him looking anything like it was when he faced down Lucius Malfoy in Diagon Alley. Ron's father was glaring at this slimy weasel like a basilisk. You know, for a guy who is normally unfailingly polite, his reaction was almost chilling.
"Mr. Potter!" the slick wizard said, holding out a limp hand. I tentatively reached out and took it, and gave it a quick shake.
It took every shred of discipline I had to keep my revulsion from registering on my face and to repress the shudder that swept through me. It felt almost exactly like I was shaking a cold, dead fish.
"Malachi, Julius Malachi, at your service. Please, do sit down, we have a lot to get through." he said in one continuous stream, not letting me inject anything into the conversation. Mr. Weasley simply gave Malachi a contemptuous glare before nodding to me and leaving my side. As he made his way over to the gallery, I surreptitiously wiped my hand on my jeans.
It still felt like I needed to wash my hands.
Malachi motioned me over to a chair, one that looked far more comfortable than the chair I sat in last year. I gently lowered myself into the soft leather, feeling it quickly and smoothly mold to my shape. My shirt had become damp with nervous perspiration, and as my back settled into the chair, the leather emitted a sound not unlike someone loudly breaking wind. I wondered if that was a sign of things to come; sitting in a chair that sounds like it has a muggle whoopie cushion built in.
I bet Dudley wishes he was here. He would have been in stitches.
As it was, every person in the room was looking at me exclusively, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck start to rise. Something was amiss.
No, something was wrong. Very wrong.
Being the focus of attention for over five hundred people made it most difficult to empty my mind, but I closed my eyes and forced myself to concentrate. Slowly, I raised my mental shields, and a comforting sensation of being separated from the world washed over me.
I felt nothing. No intrusions, and definitely no probing, subtle or otherwise.
I opened my eyes again, and looked up at the assembled Wizengamot, all dressed in the same plum coloured robes indicating their status. Self-righteous pricks.
Susan's aunt, Amelia Bones was there. She adjusted her glasses and started looking over some notes, probably preparing to begin the 'interrogation'. As I looked around the other members of Wizengamot, I saw Dumbledore, sitting there with a fur lined sash over his robes. Probably an indication of his status as Chief Warlock. He gave me a wink and a smile of encouragement. I ignored him, not in the mood for his kindly grandfather act.
Yep, I was right. Bones started the proceedings. On behalf of law-abiding wizarding folk, blah blah blah, fair and just to all, blah blah blah. God these bloody people can waffle on.
And that's the least of their incompetencies. This is a group of people who put Sirius in Azkaban for twelve years without giving him the benefit, no, the courtesy of a trial. A group of people who have used the public's misconception that werewolves, as dark creatures, are likely to support evil. Therefore they should enforce laws designed to make a lycanthrope's life so difficult that they often have no choice but to support evil.
It appears that the wizarding world has never heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy. For such a civilized society, many of them are yet to emerge from their fucking medieval notions. I mean, muggle English people have had certain legal rights since the 1600s, rights that wizards still don't have.
Bastards, all of them. The more I thought about the way things are, the more I was convinced that the wizarding government amounts to little more than a dictatorship. It has become quite obvious to me that Fudge has used his influence to pass laws, then removed anyone from a position of power who may have had the gall to challenge those laws. He controlled, or at least was able to heavily influence the media, and overstepped his boundaries to stamp out any and all dissent his paranoid little mind invented.
What respect I had for the assembled witches and wizards faded quickly. I was not going to make this easy. For any of them.
Bloody hell, how long does it take to start a proper Wizengamot hearing? All she really had to say was, "Right, settle down, and let's get started". Oh wait, she's done. Finally.
I leaned to one side, and swung my right leg over the right arm of the chair. The looks of disbelief from some of the members of the Wizengamot struck me as incredibly funny. I covered my mouth and gave a theatrical yawn to cover my amusement.
"I trust we are not inconveniencing you, Mr. Potter?" snapped an old witch waspishly.
"Of course you are." I replied evenly.
With a huff she stood, ignoring Dumbledore's gentle hand on her arm. "You should us show some respect, young man!" she announced.
I shrugged. "Why?"
That seemed to stump her. "Because we are your elders and betters." she replied, rather lamely.
"You know, for some reason, being told that you are deserving of respect impairs your critical thinking." I stated in the same even tone. "Exactly why should you be deserving of more respect simply because you have avoided dying?"
"I don't believe this! I won't put up with this from a spoilt brat!" she spat, sitting down.
"Ah, yes." I said. "When you can't debate the question at hand, insult your opponent. What a wonderful role model you are. I can see exactly why you think everyone should respect you."
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Please! Morag, Harry, we are on the same side here."
"Really?" I exclaimed. "Since when?"
A chubby-faced wizard spoke up. "Surely you are not suggesting that you are supporting You-Know-Who?" he said with a chuckle in his voice.
Perfect. "No, but Fudge does." Silence descended on the hall. "What else was I supposed to think?" I asked, directing my voice towards the stunned crowd. "I told him over a year ago that the bastard that killed my parents was back. Since that time, the Minister has done absolutely everything in his power to make sure that the Dark Lord had a swift and seamless return to power."
Oh that felt good! I should remember to bring along some ear plugs next time I make such an announcement. I smirked to myself as I finally picked out Fudge in the crowd, surrounded by his Ministry lackeys. It was surprisingly easy to pick him out, considering the fact that he was jumping up and down, screaming incoherently at me.
Not so nice to be slandered yourself, is it you arsehole?
A sudden wave of silence swept the room, and I turned to see Dumbledore standing tall with his wand out. I don't think I've ever seen him with such a disappointed look on his face.
Well, he better get used to it.
"Mr. Potter, you will refrain from making absurd statements like that. The Minister had done much in the last few weeks to ensure the wizarding world's safety."
I felt a tickling at my consciousness. Dumbledore was trying to tell me something else, trying to push a thought into my mind. Something else he didn't wan't others to hear.
Bugger that.
With all my might, I pushed up my mental shields, refusing to allow him access, even for a second. The old man blinked in surprise at the strength of my mind. I've had every reason to get as good at Occlumency as possible in the last few weeks.
"Surely you didn't mean what you said, Mr. Potter." he continued, a tiny pleading note in his usually confident voice.
"Of course not. I didn't mean that at all." I said placatingly. I waited until he sighed with relief and sat down before qualifying my statement. "Fudge is waaaaaaay too incompetent to be one of the Dark Wanker's Death Eaters."
Oh yes, earplugs would have been a really good idea.
~~~
It took several minutes before both the crowd and the Wizengamot brought themselves under control again. Through it all, I lounged there, casually playing with a rubber band I found in my pocket. As uncomfortable as it was being the center of attention, I still did my best to remain as unfazed as possible. I did manage to pick out several familiar faces in the packed gallery.
Rita Skeeter was there, her quick-notes quill scribbling away furiously beside her as she whispered to it. It was disconcerting to note that during the whole time, she never removed her eyes from me.
McGonagall and Flitwick sat together in one of the stands. I was surprised at the lack of trepidation I felt when we locked gazes. I broke the stare casually after only a few seconds, keeping my face expressionless. I wondered what she was more furious about; how I treated her at Privet Drive or how easily I dismissed her presence.
I again turned to see how Fudge reacted to my little insinuation, only to find that he was no longer where he was sitting last. Damn, his presence was going to be necessary for what I had in mind.
I decided that I'd better be wary. Fudge was a cockroach, but cockroaches have very good survival skills.
"Order!" shouted Madam Bones, finally bringing the arguments to a close. She focused her gaze onto me. "Mr. Potter. You are here to answer our questions, not to make unfounded accusations against Ministry personnel!" she said in her booming voice.
I sneered at her. "You know, as far as I can remember, so far I've only answered the questions that have been put to me. Shall we ask the court scribe?"
"Mr. Potter, please! We have much to discuss and very little time to do it." She glanced down at her papers. "Mr. Malachi, if you would please begin." she said, before leaning back in her chair.
I turned from her to look at the slimy git who 'welcomed' me to the room. He cast a quick spell on his throat, presumably a Sonorus charm. "Thank you, Madam Bones. Welcome, Mr. Potter." he drawled and a shiver ran down my spine as his entire demeanor changed. All trace of his friendly nature had disappeared. "Nice of you to finally join us."
"I'm sorry." I replied, making no effort to add an honourarium. "I had a little bit of difficulty getting through the press outside."
Malachi raised an eyebrow. "You didn't think to allow time to get here?" he asked me, his voice twisted into a fake surprised tone.
There was a glint in the bastard's eye that I didn't like. "I had no idea what to expect. The last time I was here it didn't take me anywhere near as long to make my way to my destination, since I didn't have to force my way through a crowd of babbling idiots." I sneered. I was not going to be intimidated.
The crowd shifted restlessly at my comments, many reporters looking offended. A smirk appeared slowly over Malachi's face, making him look even more like Snape.
"Ah, yes. You have in the past been charged with a crime which required you to appear before a full Wizengamot, haven't you?" Malachi swept his gaze over the audience as he spoke, and the resulting murmer of disapproval from the audience was directed straight at me.
My throat constricted in anger, as these self-absorbed, easily influenced intellectual cripples immediately thought the worst of me. These complete morons are so easily led, they condemn without proof. Sheep, they are all sheep. Or perhaps sheeple.
"I was cleared!" I spat at Malachi.
Malachi tilted his head to one side. "Not by a great margin, I understand."
Oh, you arsehole. "So now there is another finding besides guilty and not guilty?" I screamed. "'Almost guilty'? Or perhaps 'sort of guilty'?"
"Mr. Malachi, how is that relevant to why Mr. Potter is here today?" one of the Wizengamot asked.
"You didn't answer my question." said the lawyer, ignoring the man.
"Fine!" I growled. "Yes, I didn't allow enough time to get here. I'm so bloody sorry. Yes, I've appeared before a full Wizengamot before. Sorry for that too." I continued, sarcasm dripping from my voice.
Malachi sighed theatrically. "It would appear that Mr. Potter has no respect for wizarding law." he announced to the gallery. "Or those who practice it."
"Mr. Malachi!" interrupted Madam Bones, standing up from her chair. "Mr. Potter has given his reason for being late and he was indeed cleared of any wrongdoing in front of a full gathering of Wizengamot. You will refrain from impugning his character. This line of questioning has no relevance to this investigation."
Malachi gave her a deep, but mocking bow. "But I must protest, Madam, it has much to do with it." The wizard's slicked back hair stayed completely in place throughout his movements. He turned to the crowd and continued, though his words were directed at Madam Bones. "Mr. Potter assaulted the legally appointed headmistress, leading her into a trap where she was kidnapped by a group of monsters and subjected to such a horrific experience that she is still unable to relate it. Mr. Potter then illegally broke into the Ministry, indeed, into the very Department in which the deepest and most dangerous secrets of the wizarding world are stored.
"From his report of the incident, we are expected to believe that just six students, who, by the way, have not completed their education, managed to escape from twelve so-called 'Death Eaters'; Death Eaters who supposedly exposed themselves to public scrutiny just to obtain the record of a prophecy. A prophecy made by Sybill Trelawney, whose teaching methods were so suspect that she was rightfully sacked by the legally appointed High Inquisitor."
Malachi turned back to Madam Bones. "I put it to the court that Mr. Potter's actions can and should be interpreted by considering the fact that he has in the past come to the attention of and brought in front of-"
I sprang to my feet, almost quivering with anger. "So the fact I was framed should be held against me?" I screamed.
Malachi closed his eyes and smiled as if I had just done him a service. "Framed, Mr. Potter? You mean to say that the full Wizengamot, in all their wisdom, were unable to see through a clumsy frame?"
"In their wisdom?" I gasped. "What sort of wisdom did they have bringing me before them in the first place, since I was only charged with-"
"The proof!" shouted Malachi gleefully, interrupting me with his magically amplified voice. "Mr. Potter here believes that he is too important to follow the law! That he is too important to be brought in front of the very wizarding body that has shielded him from harm since he was a baby."
The crowd in the gallery immediately started shouting, arguing with one another, ignoring Madam Bones' demand for order.
"Silence!" Madam Bones roared, her voice rivaling Molly Weasley's, though still not enough to be easily made out over the ruckus. With an expression of utter fury, Madam Bones drew her wand and deftly silenced the entire gallery. "When order is demanded, you will comply or the gallery will be cleared! Do I make myself clear?" she demanded of the audience.
I looked around and saw that though silenced, several individuals in the audience were shaking their fists at her. These mental midgets allow themselves to believe the worst of people, then refuse to listen when told they might be wrong.
Madam Bones removed the silencing charm and stood herself. "That will be enough! Mr. Potter was indeed brought before a full Wizengamot for a simple charge of using underage magic. He was cleared because he was in a life threatening situation, and he simply used magic to defend himself and his cousin. The fact that he was brought before an entire gathering of Wizengamot was a decision made by Minister Fudge, not a requirement due to the severity of Mr. Potter's actions."
I took a deep breath and looked around the gallery, noting that the reaction of the crowd to this information was quite unexpected. In an instant it became apparent that the details of my 'crime' had definitely been either suppressed or misreported.
"Releasing details of a case that was declared secret, Madam?" Malachi leered, though he looked a little ill now that he couldn't use the hearing last year to defame me any longer. "I was under the impression that Minister Fudge had prohibited others from discussing the case."
As Madam Bones sputtered to herself, Dumbledore calmly stood. "The Wizengamot feel that as the judicial arm of the wizarding government, they should not be bound by the will of the executive or legislative arms. As such, any order demanding the suppression of a court case for anything reason less than protecting state secrets is again no longer binding."
"No longer binding?" I spluttered, shocked to the core. "Again? So it was in the past, but only recently? Merlin's balls, how cowardly are you people?"
A small frown flickered over the slimy git's face, and many of the Wizengamot shifted uncomfortably in their seats. I guess they weren't expecting that. Malachi cleared his throat and he spoke up, ignoring Dumbledore. "Madam, you are aware that several charms experts have mapped the spell usage in the halls of the Department of Mysteries that night. Indeed, several people were caught, found to be supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and sentenced to Azkaban.
"Each wand present that night has been tested and the spells cast documented, with only three exceptions. The wand that cast several spells, including the unforgivable Cruciatus curse in the Death Chamber is missing. The one that cast five unforgivable killing curses in the Atrium of the Ministry. And one whose signature cast several spells throughout several rooms." Malachi ticked off his fingers.
"Mr. Potter, I understand your wand has not yet been examined by Ministry personnel. Which of the unexamined wands do you possess?"
I frowned as several objections flood the floor, wondering exactly what this prick had up his sleeve. Obviously, my wand is the third one he referred to, with Bellatrix's being the first, and Voldemort's the second. Why would he need to ask?
Dumbledore was shouting something in the midst of the din, I couldn't make it out. Malachi hadn't even turned to acknowledge the outraged members of Wizengamot, and just stood there waiting for my answer.
"Bellatrix Lestrange owns the first wand you refer to, she cast the Cruciatus on my friend, Neville Longbottom. The second wand belongs to Voldemort." I said, snarling at my questioner. If I wasn't so angry with him, I probably would have laughed at the reaction to my revelation, or at least to my mentioning Tom Riddle's pseudonym.
Several witches all through the chamber have clutched their hearts and fallen back into their seats. The instant I said 'Voldemort', a visible shudder swept through the entire crowd, with only a handful of people resisting the urge to react. Cowards, the lot of them.
Malachi ignored everyone. "So your wand is the third I mentioned?"
"Obviously!" I exploded. "Just how thick are you?"
A look of dismay washed over Dumbledore's face, and my stomach dropped as I wondered exactly to what I have just admitted. I felt blood rush to my cheeks at the expression of pure delight on Malachi's face.
--