Hangry and overpowered Potter

Saturday, 12th August 1995, 8:03 a.m

In Courtroom Ten, the Ministry of Magic

Harry walked through the doors of Courtroom Ten, feeling relieved that he had arrived almost an hour early—

A cold male voice rang across the courtroom. "You're late."

"No, I'm not," Harry said. He drew his wand and worked the Tempus Charm. "I'm fifty- seven minutes early."

"The time of your trial was changed this morning," said the voice. "We sent you an owl an hour ago. You are expected to be here on time, boy. Now take your seat."

Annoyed Harry murmured, "They changed the trial time this morning? Is this even legal?"

Meanwhile, the voice gestured towards a chair that faced himself, and about fifty or so men and women. The men and women wore plum-coloured robes with an elaborately worked silver W on the left-hand side of the chest.

As Harry walked towards the chair, he noticed that steel chains were attached to the chair, at the top of the front legs and at the front of the armrests.

When Harry sat down in the chair, the chains rattled, as if Harry had given the chair a hard shaking.

"Ah, made it," drawled a voice behind Harry, at the door. Recognising the voice, Harry's fists clenched. The voice drawled again: "I don't want to miss this."

Lucius Malfoy, himself wearing plum-coloured robes, strolled into the courtroom. He walked, unhurried, to the part of the courtroom where the other purple-robed people sat. Malfoy shook several men's hands before finally taking his seat—in a posh, high-backed, black-leather chair with the Malfoy crest on the headrest.

During all this time that Lucius Malfoy, having arrived late, took more time to walk across the courtroom and to take his seat, Cornelius Fudge, the man who was presiding at Harry's trial, showed no anger and spoke not one word of rebuke.

Now the people in plum-coloured robes all stared at Harry. Lucius Malfoy was wearing a smirk; some looked at Harry with very austere expressions; whilst the faces of others up there showed looks of frank curiosity.

In the very middle of the front row sat Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic. Fudge was a portly man who often sported a lime-green bowler hat, though today he had dispensed with it; he had dispensed too with the indulgent smile he had once worn when he spoke to Harry. A witch with very short grey hair—but with a face that looked thirtyish—sat on Fudge's left; she wore a monocle and looked serious. On Fudge's right was another witch, but she was sitting so far back on the bench that her face was in shadow.

"Very well," said Fudge. "The accused being present—finally—let us begin. Are you ready?" he called down the row.

"Yes, sir," said an eager voice Harry knew. Ron's brother Percy was sitting at the very end of the front bench. Harry looked at Percy, expecting some sign of recognition from him, but none came; Percy's eyes, behind his horn-rimmed glasses, were fixed on his parchment, a quill poised in his hand.

"Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August," said Fudge in a ringing voice, and Percy began taking notes at once, "into offenses committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at Number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

Lucius Malfoy said, "Pardon, Cornelius, would you repeat that address, please?"

Cornelius replied, "Harry James Potter is resident at Number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

"Thank you. Go on," said Malfoy.

"Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; and Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley—"

"—Advisor for the defence, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," said a quiet voice from behind Harry, who turned his head so fast he cricked his neck.

Dumbledore was striding serenely across the room, wearing long midnight-blue robes and a perfectly calm expression. His long silver beard and hair gleamed in the torchlight as he drew level with Harry, and looked up at Fudge through the half-moon spectacles that rested halfway down his very crooked nose.

"Cornelius," simpered the hidden-faced witch to Fudge's right. "You forgot to seal the doors. Do we want anyone to walk in on the boy's trial?"

"Quite right, quite right," replied Fudge. In a ringing voice, he commanded, "Seal the doors!"

Harry suddenly heard behind him, the clanking of chains. When he turned to look, he saw that the two doors into Courtroom Ten were now surrounded by steel eyelets in the wall, which might or might not have been there before; and running between those eyelets were many chains that covered the doors. The links of those door-chains were thick enough that an elephant could not snap them.

When Harry faced forwards again, he saw Fudge smirking at him. That smirk said You can forget making a surprise run out of the courtroom, boy.

Harry heard a woman's voice say, "I wish Fudge would hurry up and get on with it."

Harry turned his head to seek out who had spoken; Harry looked up and to his right. Next to a group of mostly-empty seats labelled "VISITORS," was a section of seats labelled "PRESS." Sitting in the Press Box was a man whom Harry did not recognise—and Rita Skeeter. Skeeter had her acid-green quill clutched in her long-nailed hand, and she was giving Harry an eager and cruel smile.

Harry thought, Here I am, on trial for a bullshit charge, with at least three enemies in the room, and I'm not sure about Dumbledore. The only way for my life to get worse right now would be if someone dumped a bucket of pig's blood on my head.

Harry gathered that he was supposed to feel alone and scared now, and pathetically grateful for whatever paltry "help" Dumbledore deigned to give. But Harry did not feel alone, scared or grateful now—no, Harry felt annoyed.

****

Fudge extricated a piece of parchment from the pile before him, took a deep breath, and read, "The charges against the accused are as follows: That he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle- inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, on August the second at twenty-three minutes

past nine, which constitutes an offense under paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under section thirteen of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy."

Then Fudge's voice shifted from officious to scornful. "You are Harry James Potter, of Number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?" Fudge asked, glaring at Harry over the top of his parchment.

"Yes," Harry said.

"You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?"

"Yes, but—"

"And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?" said Fudge. "Yes," said Harry, "but—"

"Knowing that you are not permitted to use magic outside school while you are under the age of seventeen?"

"Yes, but—"

"Knowing that you were in an area full of Muggles?" "Yes, but—"

"Fully aware that you were in close proximity to a Muggle at the time?" "Yes," said Harry angrily, "but I only used it because we were—"

The witch with the monocle on Fudge's left, cut across him in a booming voice. "You produced a fully fledged Patronus?"

"Yes," said Harry, "because—" "A corporeal Patronus?"

"A—what?" said Harry.

"Your Patronus had a clearly defined form? I mean to say, it was more than vapour or smoke?"

"Yes," said Harry, now feeling impatient and still feeling annoyed. "It's a stag, it's always a stag."

"Always?" asked Madam Bones. "You have produced a Patronus before now?" "Yes," said Harry, "I've been doing it for over a year—"

"And you are fifteen years old?" "Yes, and—"

"You learnt this at school?"

"Yes, Professor Lupin taught me in my third year, because of the—"

"Impressive," said Madam Bones, staring down at him, "a true Patronus at that age—very impressive indeed."

"THANK YOU," Harry yelled, having decided to drown out any further interruptions. "I wonder, am I even needed here? Two questioners, and you both keep interrupting me. Why don't I wait out in the corridor whilst you two get together with Percy and make up my answers, with you pretending for the record that I'd answered your questions fully, which neither of you have let me do."

Madam Bones looked regretful. "Mr Potter, your point is well taken." Lucius Malfoy drawled, "The boy has no manners."

Harry replied, "Neither does your son. What's your point?"

Dumbledore said, "Harry my boy, I fear Lord Malfoy is correct. Right now you are acting quite ill-mannered. Behave yourself, be quiet, and let me handle your defence."

Harry made a Be my guest gesture.

Fudge interrupted the conversation between Harry and Dumbledore to say, "Fine, the boy claims he can summon a corporeal Patronus. That's impressive, assuming he's telling the truth. But it's not a question of how impressive the magic was. In fact, the more impressive, the worse it is, I would have thought, given that the boy did it in plain view of a Muggle!"

"I did it because of the Dementors!" Harry yelled, before anyone could interrupt him again. Silence.

"Dementors?" said Madam Bones after a moment, raising her grey eyebrows so that her monocle looked in danger of falling out. "What do you mean, Mr Potter?"

"I mean there were two Dementors down that alleyway, and they went for me and my cousin!"

"Your 'cousin.' Of course," Lucius Malfoy drawled. "I'm sure your Muggle 'cousin' is female, nubile, and quite gullible. Gullible enough to believe 'Sweetie, I saved you from monsters you can't see! I deserve a reward.' "

"I agree with all you said, Lord Malfoy," simpered the shadow-faced witch to Fudge's right. "Clearly the boy is a liar."

As the witch leant forwards to stare Harry down (or rather, to try to stare Harry down), Harry finally got a good look at her. She was in her forties, she was wearing eyeball-stomping pink robes, she had a black bow in her hair, and her face reminded Harry of a toad's face. She was pudgy.

"Dementors in Little Whinging?" Madam Bones said in tones of great surprise. "I don't understand—"

"Don't you, Amelia?" said Fudge, still smirking. "Let me explain. He's been thinking it through, and decided Dementors would make a very nice little cover story, very nice indeed. Muggles can't see Dementors, can they, boy? Highly convenient, highly convenient. So it's your word only, and no witnesses—"

"I'm not lying!" said Harry loudly, over another outbreak of muttering from the court. "There were two of them, coming from opposite ends of the alley. Everything went dark and cold, and my cousin felt them and ran for it—"

"Enough, enough!" said Fudge with a very patronising look on his face. "I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm sure would have been a very well-rehearsed story—"

"Pardon me for interrupting," Harry said sarcastically. "But this is a magical courtroom, is it not? I'm telling the truth, and surely there must be some way to show I'm telling the truth."

Madam Bones said thoughtfully, "We could use three drops of Veritaserum, or have him take an oath—"

"Harry," Dumbledore said forcefully, "as your magical guardian, I forbid any means of magical truth-telling. It would be dangerous for you."

Harry snarled, "Old man, you're doing it again. A year ago, when you pulled my name out of the Goblet of Fire, you stood up in front of hundreds of people and basically said that my name came out of the Goblet because I'd cheated. Then later, when it was proven that it was Barty Crouch, Jr who'd put my name in, did you publicly apologise to me? Ha! Now you're calling me a liar—just like Fudge, just like Lucy, just like the witch in pink are saying about me. You're sacked as my defender—especially as it was you, not me, who appointed you to be such!"

"Harry my boy, now is not the time for adolescent tantrums."

Harry ignored Dumbledore, and asked Madam Bones, "How do I prove I'm telling the truth?"

She looked regretful. "I am truly sorry, Mr Potter, but Headmaster Dumbledore, your magical guardian, has forbidden those means to be used."

Dumbledore gave Harry his grandfatherly smile. "Don't worry, Harry my boy, we're still in the fight."

Then Dumbledore turned to face Fudge et al. "We do, in fact, have a witness to the presence of Dementors in that alleyway. Other than Harry's cousin, Dudley Dursley, I mean."

Harry said, "Tell them, my cousin Dudley knows—" "Harry. Let me handle your defence."

****

Mrs Figg, clearly nervous, gave testimony. Fudge, Malfoy, and the toad-woman mocked Mrs Figg for being a Squib, which did not boost her confidence. Also, it became clear that whilst she had felt the effects of the Dementors (feeling cold, and a complete lack of happiness), she had not seen the Dementors that night. And since she claimed this very thing, to have seen the Dementors, she was caught in a lie.

To underscore this point, Fudge ordered one of the two doors unsealed, and ordered the two Aurors to bring a "tame" Dementor into the courtroom. Mrs Figg was unable to see the Dementor.

Fudge then could have ordered Mrs Figg sent to Azkaban, but for whatever reason, he chose not to. Still, this did not change the fact that Mrs Figg testifying, and Dumbledore calling her to testify, had hurt Harry's case. Thanks a lot, Dumbledore.

****

Seconds later

Lucius Malfoy drawled, "I believe that this Squib has been coached what to say, and"— Malfoy stared at Dumbledore—"she knows she had better say it, or else." Then Malfoy, with a smirk, added, "I'm surprised she didn't claim to see the Dark Lord there, alive, in that unimportant village of hers."

By now, Mrs Figg was weeping in the witness chair.

Harry said, "Why should Voldy be in Little Whinging, when he likes to meet up with his

Imperiused mates in Little Hangleton?"

Malfoy replied, "Boy, if you keep throwing out slanders that you can't prove, I shall challenge you to a duel."

Onlookers muttered. Harry thought, I would be proving every word I say, if the great Albus Dumbledore hadn't stopped all that.

This was when Harry realised: Dumbledore's plan was not to get Harry free, Dumbledore's plan was to make Harry believe that Dumbledore tried his best to get Harry free. Harry felt despair, followed by rage.

Harry said, "Albus Dumbledore, I say again: I dismiss you as my defence barrister."

"Harry my boy, you don't know what you're saying. I ask the court to disregard Harry's last remark."

Madam Bones looked unhappy; but Fudge, Malfoy, and the pink-robed toad-lady all grinned. If Dumbledore had any sense that the wrong people in the room were smiling for the wrong reasons, the whiskered headmaster gave no sign.

Lucius Malfoy said, "The 'Boy Who Lived,' gone rogue, is a danger to the entire community of Wizarding Britain. His offence here goes far beyond a mere case of underage magic performed in front of a Muggle. Raised by Muggles, he has too much affection for the Muggle world to keep his distance from it; this boy is a Statute of Secrecy violation waiting to happen, again and again. There can be only one verdict—Guilty—and only one punishment—the Kiss—for someone who is such a danger to our community."

Madam Bones said, "I am not at all convinced of any of this, Lord Malfoy. I'm convinced of neither his guilt, nor the need for such a radical punishment."

Fudge said, "I must sort of agree, Lucius. The boy is guilty, no doubt, but giving him the Kiss?"

"Even if we snap his wand and bind his core, he's still famous in the magical world, Minister," Lucius purred. "The magical press in the colonies, France and Australia still will interview him, they still will quote him. His lies will be spread worldwide, and the good you try to do here will be undermined."

"Cornelius," said the toad-faced witch, "don't forget that Potter is the last of his line. If he is executed, the Ministry can seize his vaults, and the wise seat-holders of the Wizengamot can decide what to do with the coins and heirlooms in those vaults. How much gold could the Ministry receive if we auctioned the Potter grimoire?"

Fudge, and many of the plum-coloured-robed wizards and witches behind him, smiled greedily.

Harry glared at Dumbledore and said, "Vaultsss? I have vaultsss? Plural?" "Not important now, Harry. I'm trying to keep you alive."

"Yeah, and you're succeeding so brilliantly, I must say. Hermione on the firstie train could have defended me better."

Madam Bones said, "We're getting off track." Then she raised her voice and said, "Those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?"

Only four hands went up: the old woman voting for House Longbottom, a man in his forties who voted for House Greengrass, Madam Bones, and Albus Dumbledore. Four votes, total.

Percy Weasley grinned cruelly at Harry, just before he turned to record the four votes. Madam Bones scowled, even whilst she asked formally, "And those in favour of conviction?"

Fudge, Malfoy and the toad-faced witch, all three, voted for Harry's conviction. But a mob of Wizengamot seat-holders joined them.

Fudge grinned at Harry. "You the accused, Harry James Potter, are found guilty of performing magic in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, thus violating Paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also violating Section Thirteen of the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy. Before we decide on your sentence—Chair, confine the brat!"

The chains that were attached to the legs and arms of the witness-chair, almost instantly wrapped themselves round Harry's forearms and lower legs.

I'm about to die, Harry thought angrily. Not killed by Voldemort, but killed by greedy idiots. Then they'll tell more lies about me, and rob me blind.

THIS IS SO UNFAIR!

As Harry's mind was filled with burning rage, he felt pain in his magical core. Not merely the ache in his core that he felt whenever he was magically exhausted, but agony—for some reason his magical core was swelling up, trying to become bigger, but something like a steel cage was stopping this; the resistance to Harry's core swelling up, hurt.

Fudge said, "Before we decide on your sentence, boy, do you have anything to say?"

Harry had much to say—but he was given no chance to say it. Dumbledore flicked his bumpy-shaft wand, and Harry was hit with a Silencing Charm.

At this high-handed indignity, Harry's magical core tried to swell up more, which pained him more. But Harry refused to cry out when Fudge, Lucy, or the whiskered fool could see.

Dumbledore said, "Friends and associates, I tell you that killing Harry, when he still is a boy, would be wasteful. I suggest that a long sentence in the maximum-security wing of Azkaban would be a mercy, and would give him time to reflect upon his misdeeds. As well as prison time, a fine against his vaults would tell Harry that you found his offences—well, offensive. But I plead with you, not to seize everything Harry owns."

Harry thought, And especially don't seize all the stuff the whiskered moron has never told me

I own.

The Wizengamot was given three sentences to vote on: Ten years in Azkaban, life in Azkaban, or execution by Dementor's Kiss. Letting Harry walk away unpunished was not a stated option; nor was merely expelling Harry from Hogwarts and snapping his wand.

Madam Bones, Wizard Greengrass and Witch Longbottom (Neville's Gran?) all voted for ten years in Azkaban—the lightest possible sentence, considering.

Dumbledore voted for life in Azkaban; then had the gall to look sadly at Harry and say, "I'm so sorry, my boy. There is nothing I can do."

All the other seat-holders voted for death by Dementor's Kiss.

Fudge made a vague gesture over his shoulder, to the place in the courtroom where the Dementor was penned. "Sentence is to be carried out immediately."

When the Dementor came close, Harry screamed, loudly enough to make Dumbledore wince

—

—which was surprising, because Harry still was supposed to be under Dumbledore's Silencing Charm.

"AGGH!"

Harry screamed in outrage, and he screamed in pain (because his expanding magical core was being blocked in its expansion by a magical cage, which hurt).

Then the magical cage that was binding Harry's magical core, burst.

Harry stopped screaming, when the pain in his magical core suddenly ended. Harry felt his magic gushing, it was bursting out. The end of pain, the end of screaming, and the strange sensation of heavily flowing magic all were caused by his expanding core suddenly being free of restraints—

At the same moment, a silver, solid stag-Patronus burst out of Harry's chest and attacked the Dementor with its antlers.

At the same moment, the steel chains that were confining Harry's arms and legs, exploded. Wh-whiss-wh-wh-whiss-whiss, tiny bits of steel shot outwards in every direction, faster than the eye could see.