Harry Potter: The Angel of Death C33 (Patreon)

Chapter 33: The Trial Part I

Six days after the hearing, on the twelfth of August, Harry found himself standing once again before the imposing doors of Courtroom Seven but this time the experience felt even more nerve-racking, which was saying something considering how stressful the previous hearing had been. 

During the hearing, there were a few dozen people in the chamber, and that already felt intimidating, but now there are hundreds. Every seat is occupied, and there are even people standing in a few corners of the room. 

The entire Wizengamot is present, its one hundred and twenty members formed a sea of plum-colored robes, each embroidered with a silver W upon the chest. It looked like a uniform and Harry found the thought amusing, distracting him for a moment. 

These were the most influential witches and wizards in Britain: lords and ladies of old noble houses, senior Ministry officials, representatives from every region of the country, and renowned scholars whose names filled academic books. Yet dressed alike, they resembled less the rulers of Magical Britain and more the students of some very expensive and highly exclusive boarding school. It was a bit ridiculous, not that the robes themselves, they were actually rather elegant, it was simply the fact that all one hundred and twenty of them were wearing matching outfits 

Maybe it was because he had spent too much time in the Muggle world, but seeing the leaders of an entire nation dressed in matching outfits felt strange. Muggle judges wore robes, certainly, and many professions had uniforms, but there was something amusing about Lucius Malfoy and over a hundred powerful political figures having to wear matching clothes whenever the full council assembled.

From what he heard, most of them agreed with him. Crowley told him that the members of the Wizengamot were only obliged to wear those robes when the entire council is gathered. He also had told him that most members dislike them, and Harry could understand why. Much to his annoyance, some really managed to pull it off. Harry glared briefly at Lucius Malfoy before looking away. 

Some people simply had an extraordinary talent for being irritating. 

He looked around the chamber and recognized a few faces among the assembled council. Lord Greengrass sat near the center of the room, engaged in conversation with an elderly wizard whose name Harry did not know, and the blond lord looked every bit as intimidating as he had during the previous hearing. Harry could only hope that Crowley's bringing up Lord Greengrass's childhood during the hearing would not end up souring the man's opinion of him since he needs as many votes as possible. Then again, Crowley seemed to hold the wizard in high regard, which had to count for something. For now, Harry decided to hope for the best. 

Augusta Longbottom occupied a nearby seat, she looked even sterner than she had the previous week, and Harry had no idea whether that was a good sign or a bad one. Either way, he was obviously not the only person intimidated by the elderly witch. The witches and wizards seated around her seemed determined to avoid her gaze whenever possible, carefully directing their attention elsewhere and Harry could not blame them.

What a terrifying old woman, he thought. Poor Neville.

One familiar face, seated near the back of the chamber, did surprise him.

"Is that Healer Tonks?"

Crowley followed his gaze.

"It is."

Harry blinked, confused, as far as he knew Edward Tonks wasn’t part of any noble house nor did he hold a position that granted him a seat in the council. 

"Why is he sitting with the Wizengamot?"

"He represents St. Mungo's."

Harry frowned.

"Shouldn't that be the hospital director?"

Crowley grinned.

"It should."

That only made Harry more confused.

"So why isn't it?"

"Long story."

Harry looked at him, expecting an answer, and his solicitor just shrugged. 

"You may ask Edward later."

That was Crowley's way of saying: I know the story, it's a good one, but I have no intention of telling you right now.

Harry had become proficient at translating Crowley over the past month, perhaps a little too proficient. At times, all it took was a glance, and he could practically predict what the man was thinking.

Unfortunately, that goes both ways. 

The noise from the audience section caught his attention, and he looked up. Unlike the hearing, today’s proceedings were fully public, and half of magical Britain fought over the limited seats in the audience section of the chamber. Every seat had been occupied long before the trial began, and several journalists were already preparing parchment, enchanted cameras, and self-writing quills. There will even be a direct, nationwide broadcast of the trial via radio. 

Truly the political event of the decade, all it needs now it’s merchandise, he though with a grimace. 

Fortunately, among the crowd, Harry also spotted a few friendly faces. The Weasleys and Hermione were seated together, and seeing them helped ease some of the tension coiled in his stomach. Ron gave him a thumb up and Hermione waved, he smiled at them before looking around. 

A short distance away sat several of his professors. Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were engaged in conversation with a group of witches and wizards whom Harry suspected were the parents of some of his classmates. Their presence felt a bit reassuring; if nothing else, it meant that several people had come here because they cared about what happened to him, and that was a comforting thought. 

Something caught his eye, he glanced toward the Weasleys again and immediately regretted it. Fred and George had taken down their jackets and they were wearing matching shirts with his face plastered across the front. The image was magically animated, causing miniature versions of Harry to wave cheerfully at anyone looking in their direction. Beneath it, large red letters proclaimed:

FREE HARRY!

Harry stared at them in a mixture of disbelief and horror, and as if sensing his gaze, George looked over, and his smile immediately brightened. He jumped to his feet and enthusiastically waved one of several enchanted hand flags he had somehow managed to smuggle into the courtroom. Naturally, it also had Harry's face on it. The slogan beneath the image changed every few seconds.

JUSTICE FOR THE BOY-WHO-LIVED!

A moment later it shifted.

FREEDOM FOR OUR SEEKER!

Then:

EMANCIPATION OR RIOT!

Harry sincerely hoped that last one was a joke but knowing the twins... George waved the flag even harder when he noticed several people staring. Fred gave him an encouraging thumbs-up and Harry seriously considered pretending he had never met either of them as he buried his face in his hands.

“Oh no.” 

Beside him, Crowley looked delighted.

"It gets better."

Harry looked up just in time to see George sell one of the flags to a witch three rows away, and seconds later, Fred sold another.

"They're merchandising my trial," Harry said, staring in disbelief.

"They're merchandising your trial," Crowley agreed with a growing smile.

Harry watched three more sales occur in less than twenty seconds. The twins were making an actual profit from his legal battle.

Part of him was horrified, but another part found the whole thing so absurd that he had to fight back a smile. There was something undeniably impressive about their ability to identify a business opportunity in practically any situation. Most people would look at a high-profile Wizengamot hearing and see a serious legal proceeding, but Fred and George saw a captive market. This was such a Fred and George thing to do.

Their ridiculous support campaign eased much of the remaining tension from his shoulders, and he found himself breathing easier.

Harry's gaze drifted toward the rest of the Weasley family. Unlike the twins, who were dressed in casual clothes and shamelessly exploiting his legal troubles for profit, the others looked remarkably formal. Each wore a set of new formal robes, neat and presentable, looking every bit as respectable as the occasion demanded.

The sight brought a small smile to Harry's face.

For days, he had been trying to figure out how to get them their share of Malfoy's money. Handing it to them directly had never been an option; the Weasleys might not have much, but they had their pride. Arthur and Molly Weasley would sooner wrestle a dragon than accept charity from a thirteen-year-old boy.

Unfortunately, Harry could not explain where the money had come from; he could not say it was money he had received from Lucius Malfoy after Crowley had blackmailed him. The magical contract prevented either Harry or Malfoy from speaking about the matter. Their lips were tied, quite literally. Every attempt Harry had made to discuss the details, even with Crowley, had ended with an unpleasant tingling sensation in his throat and an inability to continue the sentence.

Then, while Ron was telling Hermione a story about his holiday in Egypt, inspiration struck. Arthur Weasley had won seven hundred Galleons in a Ministry lottery months earlier, and that gave Harry an idea.

A few carefully arranged trips into Muggle London later, accompanied by Ron and Hermione, the three friends had happened to pass a lottery stand offering a grand prize of five million pounds. The enthusiastic employee running the stand had offered them a discount on a few tickets, so naturally, they had bought them. And through an absolutely extraordinary coincidence, Ronald Weasley had won 5 million pounds, about 1 million galleons in magical currency.

A truly astonishing stroke of luck.

Nobody questioned it. The Weasleys certainly did not, after all, people won lotteries every day. It was improbable, not impossible. More importantly, lottery winnings carried no obligations; they were not charity, not pity, and not a handout from a friend.

Just very, very good fortune.

Molly and Arthur had initially refused to touch a single Knut of it, insisting it belonged entirely to Ron. Ron had stared at them for several seconds before announcing that if they didn't accept their share, he would personally spend the entire fortune buying the Chudley Cannons.

That worked wonderfully, and now the entire family looks much more relaxed, happier even. The worry about money is gone, no more worrying about being able to afford school supplies for five children, no more stretching every galleon as much as possible. 

It made Harry very happy, if there was one family in magical Britain who deserved it, it was the Weasleys. Without them, without Ron, without Molly and Arthur opening their home to him, Harry would never have made it through several of the worst moments of his life.

Seeing them all together, dressed well, smiling, and here to support him, reminded Harry that no matter what happened during the trial ahead, he wasn't facing it alone.

Amelia Bones walked to the central seat of the chamber and sat down, attracting the attention of most of the chamber, Harry included. 

During the hearing, Dumbledore had sat there as the Chief Warlock, guiding the proceedings, but today the Headmaster was not presiding over the court. Today, he was beside Rufus Scrimgeour, probably discussing some details of the case. 

He was the opposition, not exactly an enemy, Harry reminded himself. Despite everything, Harry still believes Dumbledore didn’t want to hurt him, but he was still an obstacle in his path. He was standing against Harry’s petition, arguing on behalf of the Ministry and the current legal structure that insisted Harry needed adult oversight. 

Beside Dumbledore sat Scrimgeour, who looked nothing like the soft, elegant sort of politician Harry had grown used to seeing around the Ministry. The man had a rangy, loping sort of grace, even with the slight limp in his walk, and with his tawny hair streaked with grey, bushy eyebrows, wire-rimmed spectacles, and sharp yellowish eyes, he looked rather like an old lion who had spent most of his life fighting things with sharp teeth.

From what Harry heard about Scrimgeor during the preparation for the trial, that impression is very spot on.

The man was an Auror though and thought. He spent decades hunting Dark wizards before climbing through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement ranks to his current position as Head Auror. People speak of him as a man of action rather than a silver-tongued politician; he doesn’t have much charm but seems like the kind of man who gets things done. 

The lunatic’s memories left him a bit conflicted about him; he and Future Harry never got along, but he died refusing to reveal Harry’s whereabouts to the Death Eaters and opposed Voldemort even when all was lost. He fought til the end, and that is something to respect. Of course, this Scrimgeor is not that Scrimgeor. 

Amelia adjusted her monocle and looked across the gathered Wizengamot. The silver W embroidered on her plum robes caught the light as she rose from her seat, and when she spoke, the chamber fell silent almost instantly.

“This court is now in session,” she announced, silencing the last remaining whispers. “The matter before the Wizengamot is the petition submitted on behalf of Harry James Potter, seeking legal emancipation and recognition of independent magical status prior to the standard age of majority.”

Several reporters were taking photos of Amelia. 

“The preliminary hearing conducted on the fifth of August established sufficient legal merit for this petition to proceed to formal trial,” Amelia continued. “It further established, based upon evidence presented to the court, that Mr. Potter may not safely remain under the guardianship of his current Muggle relatives pending further judgment.”

Harry ignored the stares and looked forward. 

“The court must now determine Mr. Potter’s future legal status,” Amelia said. “The petition for emancipation remains under consideration. Alternative guardianship arrangements may also be considered should this body determine emancipation inappropriate or unsafe.”

The chamber stirred as a few people began to whisper, and Amelia's expression hardened. 

“Order.” 

The whispers died within seconds.

She is truly a formidable woman, Harry thought.  

“Mr. Anthony J. Crowley will represent Mr. Potter,” she continued. “Professor Albus Dumbledore and Auror Rufus Scrimgeour will speak on behalf of the Ministry’s interest in safeguarding magical minors and maintaining appropriate legal oversight.”

Harry glanced toward Dumbledore; the Headmaster’s expression remained calm, but there was something deeply tired in his eyes.

“The trial may begin.”

Scrimgeour rose first, and the attention of the chamber immediately shifted toward him.

Unlike Lucius Malfoy, Scrimgeour did not waste time on charm or theatrics; he did not smile charmingly, nor did he soften his tone. When he spoke, his voice was steady and direct, carrying easily through the courtroom.

“Members of the Wizengamot,” he began, “the Ministry does not dispute that Mr. Potter’s previous guardianship requires intervention. The evidence presented during the preliminary hearing was serious, and no responsible representative of magical law should dismiss it lightly.”

Harry though that there are more than a few irresponsable representatives of magical law present, but wisely he did no say anything. Pointing out the corruption in the Ministery right now would be a truly stupid thing to do.

“However,” Scrimgeour said, “removing Mr. Potter from one unsafe situation does not mean placing him into another.”

Several people nodded agreeing with him.

“Mr. Potter is thirteen years old,” Scrimgeour continued. “He is wealthy, famous, politically significant, and, whether this chamber likes it or not, a likely target for surviving sympathizers of Lord Voldemort.”

The name sent a ripple through the chamber, many acted as if frightened by the mere name alone and Harry sighed tiredly. Truly ridiculous, he thought. 

Scrimgeour ignored it.

“Complete independence may sound appealing in theory, particularly when presented as rescue from failed guardianship, but magical oversight exists for a reason. Underage restrictions exist for a reason. Magical children can harm themselves or others without intending to do so.”

His yellowish gaze moved briefly toward Harry.

“Talent does not equal adulthood. Maturity does not erase age. Courage, however admirable, is not legal competency on its own.”

Harry hated how reasonable that sounded and judging by the murmurs around the chamber, plenty of others agreed.

Scrimgeour gestured once, and several parchment files floated upward beside him.

“In the past fifty years, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has documented numerous cases in which unsupervised minors caused serious harm through accidental magic, experimental spellwork, emotional surges, or simple ignorance.” He moved his wand and the files flew through the room, several reached Harry and Crowley’s side of the chamber and they read though them. 

A twelve-year-old who permanently transfigured part of his body during a panic episode.

A fourteen-year-old who attempted to brew a potion well above his knowledge or skill and poisoned five relatives, killing two of them, and permanently crippling another.

A young witch who accidentally cursed herself while trying to imitate a spell from an older sibling’s textbook.

A boy who set half a village on fire while attempting charm spell beyond his level.

“These were not malicious children,” Scrimgeour said. “Most were not even reckless by temperament. They were young and they lacked knowledge and experience that only comes with age and that was enough to ruin their lives.”

The chamber remained attentive.

“Mr. Potter’s situation magnifies every ordinary risk,” Scrimgeour continued. “He is not merely a young wizard seeking distance from an unsuitable home. He is Harry Potter.”

Harry stiffened. He hates the whole Boy-Who-Lived things with burning passion.

“He is a national hero. A symbol of victory against darkness. A public figure whose safety affects more than himself.” Scrimgeour’s voice remained hard, but not cruel. “If something happens to him, Britain will not respond as though harm befell a private citizen. There will be outrage. Ther will be panic, political instability and social unrest.”

During the hearing Crowley had used Harry’s status to their advantage and now it is being used against them. 

“Therefore,” Scrimgeour concluded, “the Ministry submits that while Mr. Potter must not be returned to his former guardians, full emancipation at thirteen years of age presents unacceptable risks. The court should instead consider structured oversight, Ministry-supervised custody, or court-appointed guardianship until Mr. Potter reaches a more appropriate age.”

***

Author's Note

Yesterday I finally completed the detailed outline for this arc. It took roughly four hours to put together rough drafts for every chapter, but I'm very happy with how it turned out.

The Trial Arc should last around six or seven chapters, with the middle portion containing some of the juicier parts of the story so far. In fact, it will resolve a topic many readers have been bringing up for quite some time.

What topic? No spoilers, amigo. Too big of a plot point to spoil.

I am not completely heartless, so I'll share this much: the long-awaited confrontation between Harry and Dumbledore is coming. And I'm not talking about the public clash everyone is expecting. I'm talking about something far more personal, far more emotional, and long overdue.

Let's just say that certain conversations can no longer be avoided