Chapter Text
Harry was anxious for the next day, it would be his first time at the Ministry, and it wouldn't be for positive reasons or a field trip... He hadn't really thought about it before, being as occupied as he had been until now, cleaning Grimmauld Square, but it was all coming down onto him: tomorrow, same time, he would either be free and declared innocent, or have his wand snapped and be forced to live with Hagrid as apprentice Gamekeeper if he wanted to stay in the magical world. No pressure. All because of two bloody dementors...
Maybe he had looked a little green at the dinner table, because Sirius was suddenly grabbing his shoulder in a half hug.
"Worried about tomorrow?" He asked. Harry simply nodded, not trusting his voice. "Don't be, the Ministry's great and quite majestic." The teenager looked at his godfather incredulously. "What? Every time I went there, it went well for me, I'm sure it'll translate to you too!"
"Every time? You went multiple times to the Ministry before you were jailed there?"
"Oh I didn't go to the Ministry's holding cells, nope, I went straight to Azkaban." He chuckled darkly. "But before that I was actually an auror, you know." He smiled.
"You were?" Harry asked, interested.
"Yep, I had just made Auror First class, and then..." Sirius's face darkened. "Well, you know, I got played by life." He finished, shrugging. Harry didn't know what to say... Come to think of it, there were worse things than just getting expelled. So the moody teen began to dig back in his plate, trying his best to get his godfather's hopes and spirits back up.The Weasley twins provided an easy distraction with a bombardment of questions aimed at the last of the marauders. Sirius and Remus spent the rest of the evening regaling tales from their Hogwarts years.
Well until night came at least. Harry tossed and turned, again, and again, and again, his heartbeat getting faster and faster as he tried to call down. And worse, the more he tried not thinking about it, the more a growing mass of black was judging him guilty, and reaching with hundreds of tendrils for him, latching onto his arms, then his legs, progressively covering more and more of his body, breaking his wand when he tries to cast a spell, and coating him higher and higher, like tar coming to life. He clawed desperately at it, trying to avoid his respiratory routes being obstructed, but the more he tried, the faster he felt himself suffocating.
He shot up with a gasp, and clawed at his chest. Air filled his lungs. A nightmare, just a bloody nightmare. He looked at the watch on Ron's bedside table -his own watch had not survived the trip in the lake... It was barely five... Well, not like he would go back to sleep anyway -especially with Ron's snoring. He got up, and put his clothes on as methodically as possible, trying not to think about the challenge ahead. That failed. Spectacularly...
Reaching the door to the kitchen that he expected to find empty, he heard the soft rumble of voices on the other side. Entering, he saw Mr and Mrs Weasley, Sirius, Lupin, and Tonks sitting there almost as though they were waiting for him. All were fully dressed except Mrs Weasley, who was wearing a quilted, purple dressing gown. She leapt to her feet the moment he entered.
“Breakfast,” she said as she pulled out her wand and hurried over to the fire.
“M-m-morning, Harry,” yawned Tonks. Her hair was blonde and curly this morning. “Sleep all right?”
“Yeah,” said Harry. He rather enjoyed Tonks presence, she treated him like anyone else, just like the twins did, and wasn't afraid to call him out on his bullshit.
“I’ve b-b-been up all night,” she said, with another shuddering yawn. “Come and sit down....” She drew out a chair, knocking over the one beside it in the process.
“What do you want, Harry?” Mrs Weasley called. “Porridge? Toast? Muffins? Kippers? Bacon and eggs? Toast?”
“Just — just toast, thanks,” said Harry. Lupin glanced at Harry, then said to Tonks,
“What were you saying about Scrimgeour?”
“Oh ... yeah ... well, we need to be a bit more careful, he’s been asking Kingsley and me funny questions....” Harry felt vaguely grateful that he was not required to join in the conversation. His insides were squirming. Mrs Weasley placed a couple of pieces of toast and marmalade in front of him; he tried to eat, but it was like chewing carpet. Mrs Weasley sat down on his other side and started fussing with his T-shirt, tucking in the label and smoothing out creases across the shoulders. He wished she wouldn’t. “...and I’ll have to tell Dumbledore I can’t do night duty tomorrow, I’m just t-t-too tired,” Tonks finished, yawning hugely again.
“I’ll cover for you,” said Mr Weasley. “I’m okay, I’ve got a report to finish anyway....” Mr Weasley was not wearing wizard’s robes but a pair of pin-striped trousers and an old bomber jacket. He turned from Tonks to Harry. “How are you feeling?” Harry shrugged. “It’ll all be over soon,” Mr Weasley said bracingly. “In a few hours’ time you’ll be cleared.” Harry said nothing. “The hearing’s on my floor, in Amelia Bones’s office. She’s Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and she’s the one who’ll be questioning you.”
“Amelia Bones is okay, Harry,” said Tonks earnestly. “She’s fair, she’ll hear you out.” Harry nodded, still unable to think of anything to say.
“Don’t lose your temper,” said Sirius abruptly. “Be polite and stick to the facts.” Harry nodded again.
“The law’s on your side,” said Lupin quietly. “Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations.” Something very cold trickled down the back of Harry’s neck; for a moment he thought someone was putting a Disillusionment Charm on him again, then he realized that Mrs Weasley was attacking his hair with a wet comb. She pressed hard on the top of his head.
“Doesn’t it ever lie flat?” she asked desperately.
"I tried time and time again..." Harry said, shaking his head. Mr Weasley checked his watch and looked up at Harry.
“I think we’ll go now,” he said. “We’re a bit early, but I think you’ll be better off there than hanging around here.”
“Okay,” was Harry's automatic reply, dropping his toast and getting to his feet.
“You’ll be all right, Harry,” said Tonks, patting him on the arm.
“Good luck,” added Lupin kindly. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
“And if it’s not,” said Sirius grimly, “I’ll see to Amelia Bones for you....” Harry smiled weakly. Mrs Weasley hugged him.
“We’ve all got our fingers crossed,” she said.
“Right,” said Harry. “Well... see you later then.” They made their journey through London the muggle way, to the great excitement of Mr Weasley, to finally emerge onto a broad street lined with imposing-looking buildings, already full of traffic.
“Where are we?” said Mr Weasley blankly, and for one heart-stopping moment Harry thought they had gotten off at the wrong station despite Mr Weasley’s continual references to the map; but a second later he said, “Ah yes... this way, Harry,” and led him down a side road.
“Sorry,” he said, a few seconds later, “but I never come by train and it all looks rather different from a Muggle perspective. As a matter of fact I’ve never even used the visitor’s entrance before.”
The farther they walked, the smaller and less imposing the buildings became, until finally they reached a street that contained several rather shabby-looking offices, a pub, and an overflowing dumpster. Harry had expected a rather more impressive location for the Ministry of Magic. “Here we are,” said Mr Weasley brightly, pointing at an old red telephone box, which was missing several panes of glass and stood before a heavily graffitied wall.
“After you, Harry.” He opened the telephone box door. Harry stepped inside, wondering what on earth this was about. Mr Weasley folded himself in beside Harry and closed the door. It was a tight fit; Harry was jammed against the telephone apparatus, which was hanging crookedly from the wall as though a vandal had tried to rip it off. Mr Weasley reached past Harry for the receiver.
“Mr Weasley, I think this might be out of order too,” Harry said.
“No, no, I’m sure it’s fine,” said Mr. Weasley, holding the receiver above his head and peering at the dial. “Let’s see... six...” he dialed the number, "two... four... and another four... and another." As the dial whirred smoothly back into place, a cool female voice sounded inside the telephone box, not from the receiver in Mr Weasley’s hand, but as loudly and plainly as though an invisible woman were standing right beside them.
“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.”
“Er...” said Mr Weasley, clearly uncertain whether he should talk into the receiver or not; he compromised by holding the mouthpiece to his ear, “Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, here to escort Harry Potter, who has been asked to attend a disciplinary hearing....”
“Thank you,” said the cool female voice. “Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes.” There was a click and a rattle, and Harry saw something slide out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. He picked it up: It was a square silver badge with Harry Potter, Disciplinary Hearing on it. He pinned it to the front of his T-shirt as the female voice spoke again.
“Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.” The floor of the telephone box shuddered. They were sinking slowly into the ground. Harry watched apprehensively as the pavement rose up past the glass windows of the telephone box until darkness closed over their heads. Then he could see nothing at all; he could only hear a dull grinding noise as the telephone box made its way down through the earth. After about a minute -though it felt much longer to Harry-, a chink of golden light illuminated his feet and, widening, rose up his body, until it hit him in the face and he had to blink to stop his eyes from watering.
“The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day,” said the woman’s voice. The door of the telephone box sprang open and Mr. Weasley stepped out of it, followed by Harry, whose mouth had fallen open.
They were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that were continually moving and changing like some enormous heavenly notice board. The walls on each side were paneled in shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft whoosh; on the right-hand side, short queues of wizards were forming before each fireplace, waiting to depart. Halfway down the hall was a fountain. A group of golden statues, larger than life-size, stood in the middle of a circular pool. Tallest of them all was a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air. Grouped around him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf. The last three were all looking adoringly up at the witch and wizard. Harry gaped at it for a few seconds, the sheer massiveness of the statues and the blinding reflection of the light on them made it really impressive. Questionable choice for the place of the woman however, he noted absentmindedly. Glittering jets of water were flying from the ends of the two wands, the point of the centaur’s arrow, the tip of the goblin’s hat, and each of the house-elf’s ears, so that the tinkling hiss of falling water was added to the pops and cracks of Apparators and the clatter of footsteps as hundreds of witches and wizards, most of whom were wearing glum, early-morning looks, strode toward a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall.
“This way,” said Mr. Weasley. They joined the throng, wending their way between the Ministry workers, some of whom were carrying tottering piles of parchment, others battered briefcases, still others reading the Daily Prophet as they walked. As they passed the fountain, Harry saw silver Sickles and bronze Knuts glinting up at him from the bottom of the pool. A small, smudged sign beside it read:
All proceeds from the Fountain of Magical Brethren will be given to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
'If I’m not expelled from Hogwarts, I’ll put in ten Galleons.' Harry found himself thinking desperately.
“Over here, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley, and they stepped out of the stream of Ministry employees heading for the golden gates, toward a desk on the left, over which hung a sign saying security. A badly shaven wizard in peacock-blue robes looked up as they approached and put down his Daily Prophet. “I’m escorting a visitor,” said Mr. Weasley, gesturing toward Harry.
“Step over here,” said the wizard in a bored voice. Harry walked closer to him and the wizard held up a long golden rod, thin and flexible as a car aerial, and passed it up and down Harry’s front and back. “Wand,” grunted the security wizard at Harry, putting down the golden instrument and holding out his hand. Harry produced his wand. The wizard dropped it onto a strange brass instrument, which looked something like a set of scales with only one dish. It began to vibrate. A narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base. The wizard tore this off and read the writing upon it.
“Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use four years. That correct?”
“Yes,” said Harry nervously.
“I keep this,” said the wizard, impaling the slip of parchment on a small brass spike. “You get this back,” he added, thrusting the wand at Harry.
“Thank you.”
“Hang on....” said the wizard slowly. His eyes had darted from the silver visitor’s badge on Harry’s chest to his forehead.
“Thank you, Eric,” said Mr. Weasley firmly, and grasping Harry by the shoulder, he steered him away from the desk and back into the stream of wizards and witches walking through the golden gates. They soon reached a room where about twenty lifts were taking a continuous flow of wizards in different parts of the Ministry. They met a wizard named Bob who was holding a box from which flames shot out here and there. Harry listened as they talked about regulations, and followed diligently after Mr Weasley, in the lifts. The teen listened absentmindedly to the levels as they went down, and nodded along when Mr Weasley explained what the paper planes were. They got down to the level two: Mr Weasley's office, but also the aurors' office, which Harry looked in with interest.
Kinglsey caught them and secretly gave them a newspaper called the Quibbler, for Sirius, but maintained an air of being just acquaintances for those all around. They also learnt about regurgitating toilets, an Anti-Muggle prank that would need Mr Weasley's attention.
And then, the news came. The Hearing had been advanced, to eight, which meant ten minutes ago. They rushed out to the lifts, got down to the Atrium, and rushed to Courtroom Ten.
“Go on,” he panted, pointing his thumb at the door. “Get in there.”
“Aren’t — aren’t you coming with — ?”
“No, no, I’m not allowed. Good luck!” Harry’s heart was beating a violent tattoo against his Adam’s apple. He swallowed hard, turned the heavy iron door handle, and stepped inside the courtroom. He gasped; he could not help himself. The large dungeon he had entered was horribly familiar. He had not only seen it before, he had been here before: This was the place he had visited inside Dumbledore’s Pensieve, the place where he had watched the Lestranges sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban. The walls were made of dark stone, dimly lit by torches. Empty benches rose on either side of him, but ahead, in the highest benches of all, were many shadowy figures. They had been talking in low voices, but as the heavy door swung closed behind Harry an ominous silence fell. A cold male voice rang across the courtroom.
“You’re late.”
“Sorry,” said Harry nervously. “I-I didn’t know the time had changed.
"That is not the Wizengamot’s fault, and as it stands, we have other matters to cover, hence, you are now judged guil-" Cornelius Fudge said.
"Now hold on a bloody minute, maybe it's different in the magical world, but in the muggle world, if the court - all of you- fail to warn me about the time change, I can sue. Is it a right here too?" Harry cut the minister off.
"How dare you speak to the Minister in that tone! You insolent child!" A sort of pink toad shouted in a very irritating high voice. When Harry said a pink toad, it wasn't far from the truth: it was a rather squat witch with flabby cheeks, big round eyes and a black velvet bow looking just like a fly on her hair.
"As disrespectful as Harry's tone had been," A gentle voice began from behind him. "He still is correct in the assumption that he could sue this body for not sending him an invitation in time."
"They are right Minister Fudge." Said a voice on Fudge's left. It was a broad, square-jawed witch with very short gray hair and she was sporting a monocle. "But we do have other matters for now. I motion to postpone the hearing for five pm, today, with no last minute changes of the time."
"I second Madam Bones's motion." An older wizard said, standing up. Fudge was visibly seething as he asked tightly:
"All for?" A good chunk of the Wizengamot raised their wand, and, after counting: "Motion carried." The minister hissed through his teeth, a vein pulsing on his temple. Harry couldn't help the sigh of relief that came over him: at least he wasn't expelled yet.
"You are dismissed until five pm." Madam Bones said. Harry and Dumbledore walked out of the courtroom and were greeted by Mr Weasley:
"So soon?"
"Alas Arthur, because of our tardiness, we must now wait for five, tonight, though it's only thanks to a rather brilliant argument of young Mr Potter here." Dumbledore said, and before Harry could ask him anything, he already was going on: "I must bid you farewell until tonight, I have important matters to deal with I'm afraid." And he was out before Harry could even say bye... Was Dumbledore avoiding him?
"Tell me what happened, Harry." Mr Weasley asked, and so the dark haired teenager did as they walked back to Mr Weasley's office.
"Well," the ministry employee began once Harry finished, "you certainly saved yourself with that outburst, well done Harry." He said, opening the door to his office.
"I don't know about that, I'm afraid it'll just worsen my case tonight..."
"Hmm... Want to know a little secret for stressing less?" Harry nodded eagerly. "Find an empty room with a rug -there should be one on the entrance floor- take off your shoes and socks. Then you walk around on the rug barefoot and make fists with your toes."
"Fists with your toes?" Harry raised an eyebrow in disbelief.
"I know. It sounds crazy. Trust me. I've been doing it for nine years. Better than a shower and a pick-me-up potion." Mr Weasley nodded. "Now, I need to go for those regurgitating toilets, Kingsley will pretend to be worried you'll try to get away, and you'll stay with him until I come back, alright?" Harry nodded, he really wanted to see how the auror office worked.
And so Harry spent his time with Kingsley: he learnt the whole processing of a prisoner, paperwork included, which, admittedly, was a bit boring but not enough to deter the auror hopeful.
"What's he doing here?" a tough-looking wizard with very short, wiry grey hair asked.
"Good afternoon Dawlish. Mr Potter is here so we can keep an eye on him while Arthur Weasley does his job." Kingsley explained, with a faux air of detachment. Dawlish merely harrumphed, walking to his desk. Kingsley led Harry to a place in the ministry to have lunch, and then taught him over the roast chicken about the auror hierarchy: when you enroll you become a cadet, after passing the first exam, you become a trainee, then, following a year and another exam, you become a Second class, then First class, Lieutenant, Captain, and then you can become Head of the auror department and then, Head of the DMLE. Harry was mentally jotting down everything Kingsley was telling him, with the greatest attention.
When they came back from lunch, they saw that Mr Weasley was back, but not alone:
"Katie?!" Harry asked the harvest blonde-haired girl. Katie was one of Harry's teammates, she was the closest in age to him, and he found himself laughing quite often with the brown eyed girl. She had been about his height the last time he saw her, but his latest growth spurt had made him taller by half a head.
"Hey Harry, looking good!" She said, sitting in front of Mr Weasley's desk, the latter looking at an earring, and waving his wand here and there.
"You too!" He said, surprising even himself at his smooth retort. To be fair, she did look good. Her hair was pulled back in its sempiternal ponytail with a bang on each side of her eyes. She had put on the faintest trace of makeup, and had gotten a pretty tan during the vacations. It was the first time Harry was seeing her in casual clothing, and even though he didn't know much about fashion, he knew her clothes fit her well. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, you know..." She began awkwardly.
"She modified this earring to be able to talk with her Muggle cousin instantly from another city." Mr Weasley provided the answer.
"My cousin who already knew that magic is a thing." Katie said.
"It still remains an improper use of magic. However, I'll only need to remove the function, so you're rather lucky." Mr Weasley said. "Why don't you two walk around for a while?" The patriarch said, looking up at the two teens. Katie looked at Harry and shrugged in agreement. They hadn't really ever hung out just the two of them, but they weren't strangers either. They exited the office and started to walk around the Ministry:
"How's your summer been?" Harry asked awkwardly.
"Oh it's been fun, I met up with Angie and Leesh quite often and, as you know, my cousin."
"What did you girls talk about? Oh, and what's your cousin's name?" He asked. His teammate raised a playful eyebrow. "What? I really want to know!"
"Do you? Well then, we talked about clothes, who we think is the hottest guy in Hogwarts and our previous crushes, current ones, and of course Quidditch. As for my cousin, she's named Madeline, Maddie for short." She said, snorting when she saw Harry cringe at the cloth talk part. "What about you?" Harry pulled a face. "That bad?"
"I've been cut off from the magical world, Hermione and Ron were scarcely giving me any news and they barely apologised, and when I finally have some news again, I learn that everyone thinks I'm a maniac who probably killed Cedric himself. And I've got a bloody hearing today."
"I don't. Believe you're a maniac I mean." Katie said. "I believe you about You-Know-Who and Cedric's death. And I'm sorry you've had such a lame summer until now, if you ever feel trapped again, you can message me you know? We're teammates and friends, you can count on me, alright?" She smiled, and Harry smiled back weakly.
"Thanks..."
"Don't mention it.. Want to know something?" She asked conspiratorially, looking around.
"Hmm?"
"There's actually two pairs of earrings." She said smugly. "I hid the other one in my home." She smirked. Harry chuckled, and they went on their way. They spoke about Quidditch, about who they thought could make a good keeper, and tried to learn more about each other in general (like Katie being a half-blood and that she was living on the border of England with Scotland). The dark haired teenager was really glad for the distraction it provided.
Sadly, it was short lived as somewhen, an hour or so later, Katie was picked up by her mum.
Harry sighed, it had been two hours since Katie left, and his stress had skyrocketed. The hearing was getting closer and closer, with now only twenty minutes left, and Harry couldn't help the dread filling his body: something bad was about to happen. He found an empty room with a rug on the entrance floor, it had been easy, most of the Ministry had gone home, Kingsley among them. Feeling extremely foolish, Harry removed his shoes and socks, and started to walk around, before sitting at a chair on the opposite side of the room and balling his now bare feet.
"Bloody hell..." He snorted after a few minutes: "Fist with your toes." He smiled, not believing it. His relief was short lived however as several explosions rang all throughout the ministry all at once before a voice magnified by magic drawled nasally:
"All, please get into the entrance, and no one gets hurt." It said calmly. Of course. One year, just one bloody year of tranquility is all Harry was asking for... He didn't even make it through summer without two incidents...