Chapter Text
The last bit of the term flew by. Exam results came back and it turned out everyone had managed to come through alright, though Dudley had failed Potions as predicted. Happily, at least Neville had scraped by, to his own amazement. Despite achieving near-perfect scores on all her tests, Hermione had finally consented to lighten her class load a bit even if it was only giving up Muggle Studies in addition to the already-abandoned Divination for the next year. “We all have an extra class every year anyway,” she said. “It’s called Keeping Harry Potter Alive - quite enough to be getting on with.” The summer held the promise of relief from daily school work, for the most part, as well as several other things to look forward to. Ron was already getting excited about going to the Quidditch World Cup at the end of the summer, and of course there was the Shared Birthday to be planned at the Burrow.
The only duty that remained between them and holiday bliss was the hearing that would determine Buckbeak’s fate. All of the plans for witnesses and expert testimony had been made with Mr. Marchbanks, and Harry’s speech had been written, edited, and rewritten between Daphne and Hermione until it was as polished as it could be. Together, they all boarded the Hogwarts Express and had a peaceful, pleasant train ride to London. As soon as they debarked, a car driven by Mr. Weasley was waiting to take them to the main entrance of the Ministry of Magic, and he escorted them deep into the bowels of the Ministry where the Wizengamot met to discuss high-profile cases. They met briefly with Crispin, though there was nothing new to say after all the owls they’d exchanged in the preceding days. As soon as he left, Amelia Bones squeezed into the waiting room right after him.
She cut an imposing figure: a large, squarely built woman whose very presence screamed none of that nonsense here, thank you. She had short, graying hair, a blunt, unsmiling face, and her manner was direct enough to be intimidating even though they knew she was nominally on their side. She was clearly accustomed to command. “Harry Potter, Amelia Bones, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I hope you don’t mind me horning in, I wanted to meet you in person before all of this kicked off.”
Harry shook her hand. “I’m honored to meet you, ma’am.”
She snorted. “I’m sure you are. Same, actually, don’t get to say that with any amount of honesty very often. Boy Who Lived and all that shite out of the way, Susan tells me you’re the right sort.”
Harry blinked. “I…uh…we like her too.”
Amelia barked a laugh. “Mostly that’s on the merit of this Dudley I've heard so much about - no need to ask who that is.” She nodded to Hermione. “You’re the Granger girl, well met, heard you’re brilliant.” Hermione blushed but Amelia was already moving on. She gestured vaguely at Ron before holding her hand out for him to shake. “And you’re a Weasley if I've ever seen one, quite the brood, you folk are. That makes you ‘Dud’ doesn’t it?” She turned and held her hand out to Dudley.
He shook hands with her as well. “S’pose it does. Nice to meet you, Madame Bones.”
“Harry Potter's good-as-a-brother.” She looked him up and down. “Merlin’s balls, boy, you’re a big one. You’ve been teaching my Susan how to fight like a Muggle, put a good bit of muscle on her, so I’ve seen.”
He shrugged. “That’s what she asked for. More or less thrashed me into letting her spar with us.”
Amelia laughed loudly. “Dear Circe, I love that girl. Gets right to the fuckin’ heart of me, she does. Well, good on you, Mr. Late Bloomer. She speaks very highly of you. I hope you can handle her.” She turned to Harry and held out a hand expectantly. “Let’s see this speech you’re going to give.”
Harry hesitated only briefly before taking a piece of folded parchment out of his robes and handing it over. She read through it quickly and then fixed him with a look that seemed to weigh and measure him down to the last Knut. “This turn of phrase, here at the end. It’s inspired, I’ll grant. I salute your young speechcrafter over there.” Behind Harry, Hermione blushed again and looked down at her feet. Madame Bones grunted. “Yes, well done. It will strike the note you want, Potter. But it’s a card to play sparingly, not a skeleton key for every door. You’re sure you want to use it here, now?”
Harry met her eyes steadily. Dudley knew he was resolved. “It’s to save life.”
She sighed and nodded as if that was the answer she’d been expecting. “Ah, youth. I admire your idealism, Harry, but I pray you don’t regret it down the line. Very well. The session will begin in just a few minutes. Be ready.”
Soon it was time to file into the Wizengamot chamber. Daphne found Dudley immediately, appearing out of a side corridor to lead him to a seat among the general observers, a section which was sparsely populated. He found her as radiant as ever, but had little time to appreciate her beauty or even exchange more than a few words of greeting. Madame Bones brought the room to order and read out a bit about the basic details of the case and the motions that had been filed.
The accusatory side went first. There was nothing interesting there beyond a rehash of what they had already claimed: Buckbeak had seriously injured a student based on an overreaction and was therefore dangerous and should be executed as a matter of general public safety. Lucius Malfoy was present but did not testify; he just looked daggers at Harry the entire time. The argument was made by his barrister, whose name Dudley promptly forgot, and by Macnair, an unpleasant-looking official from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. Their side of it didn’t take very long, and Madame Bones was soon saying, “Counsel for the defense, you may call your first witness.”
Marchbanks got up and called Neville, who had agreed to testify about what he’d seen there that day. Since they had an interested third party with a recognizable name, Marchbanks had determined that they didn’t need a dozen students all saying versions of the same thing - Neville stood for them all. Hagrid’s previous testimony was entered into the record, and then Marchbanks paused for a moment before saying, “The defense will now submit the direct testimony of a magizoological expert.”
“Proceed,” said Amelia Bones.
“I must object!” said Malfoy's barrister. “This is a question of safety, not a…a textbook entry!”
Into the room walked a spare, slightly stooped old man in a too-large coat. His face was long and his expression generally calm, but there was a tightness to his eyes that said he'd prefer to be anywhere else. His eyes flicked to and fro, observing everything but tending to focus just past people rather than on them. His hair was a tousled reddish-brown shot with plenty of gray; its wild appearance reminded Dudley of the way Harry's hair never seemed quite tamable no matter how hard one tried. He wore scuffed dragon-hide boots over plain trousers - nothing about him was fancy or expensive. Altogether, he looked unassuming, but Dudley could see something in the way he held himself, a calm certainty in his posture, the look of someone who has faced dangerous things and learned not to flinch.
“By the triple goddess, that's Newt Scamander,” breathed Daphne. “In person!” A low murmur rippled through the chamber as more and more people realized what Daphne had; several of the present witches and wizards straightened unconsciously; several more leaned forward with newfound interest. By the time he reached the center of the chamber, the room had gone quiet. Newt stopped, offering a polite, almost absent-minded nod to the assembled Wizengamot.
Madame Bones eyed Malfoy’s barrister. “I trust your objection can be considered withdrawn.” She turned away from him without waiting for an answer. “Please identify yourself for the record, Mr. Scamander,” she said drily.
“Ah, yes. Hello. My name is Newton Artemis Scamander. I am an accredited magizoologist, former Head of the Beast Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Oh, and I've written a book, called Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.”
“Let the record also show that Mr. Scamander has earned the Order of Merlin, First Class. I trust no one needs a refresher as to why,” added Madame Bones. “Please, Mr. Scamander, continue with your testimony.”
Newt cleared his throat. “I have examined the creature known as Buckbeak, a male hippogriff of healthy temperament and sound magical condition. Based on my observations and extensive experience with hippogriffs in both controlled and wild environments, I can state unequivocally that Buckbeak’s behavior during the incident in question falls well within normal parameters for his species.” His voice took on a completely different quality when speaking about Buckbeak than it did when he was introducing himself. He was confident and enthusiastic on this topic.
“Hippogriffs are proud creatures that respond acutely to perceived disrespect. They are not aggressive by nature, but they are intolerant of provocation. A hippogriff will not attack unprompted; it reacts. In reviewing the incident in question, it is clear that the injury sustained by young Mr. Malfoy resulted from his own failure to follow standard, clearly stated handling procedures. Further, Buckbeak’s response was a warning strike, not a predatory attack. The injuries described are consistent with a single defensive slash intended to deter further offense, not to maim or kill.” He nodded, as if to himself, checking things off on a mental list of what to say. He smiled. “In my professional judgment, Buckbeak does not represent a danger to students when proper protocol is observed. To destroy a creature of Buckbeak’s temperament and training for reacting as its nature dictates would be not only unjust, but a troubling precedent for the treatment of all magical beings. I therefore recommend that all charges against Buckbeak be dismissed in full, and that responsibility for the incident be formally attributed to mishandling by the injured party.”
“Whatever Harry paid Marchbanks, he’s worth double,” marvelled Daphne. “I knew he’d get a magizoologist, and they’re rare enough, but to actually bring in Newt Scamander? Where the bloody hell did they even find him?” She shook her head in wonder. “All Harry has to do is get through his speech without personally insulting every member of the Wizengamot and this is a sure thing.”
“Thank you, Mr. Scamander. You may depart the deposition area if you have nothing further to add.”
Newt blinked. “Oh, I don’t. That was it. Have a nice day.” He gave a polite smile that he flashed around the room without ever quite managing to make eye contact with anyone specifically, and left the way he'd come, with no more fanfare than that with which he had arrived.
“I cannot believe what I just saw,” said Daphne, gripping Dudley's arm tightly.
There was a general din in the chamber, and Madame Bones put her wand to her throat and muttered “Sonorus,” before continuing, “Your next witness, Mr. Marchbanks.”
The sudden volume of her voice shocked the room back toward silence, thought not quite all the way. Marchbanks gave a small smile. “The final witness for the defense will be Harry James Evans-Potter.” He motioned Harry forward.
The volume in the room rose again briefly. “Very well. The floor is yours, Mr. Potter,” said Amelia.
Harry entered the center ring and sat down in the ridiculously high-backed chair in the center of the room, and a light was trained on him. “Thank you, Madame Bones. Ladies and gentlemen of the Wizengamot, I come before you today for two purposes. The first is in defense of a magical creature who deserves to have someone speak for him in a way he cannot speak for himself, but the greater reason is to express my grave concern for the integrity of our legal process.”
He leaned forward. “To the first purpose, I offer this: I was there at the time of the incident along with the other witnesses you have heard from today. What happened was not an attack, unprovoked or otherwise. You have heard today from an expert magizoologist on the understood and accepted norms for the behavior of hippogriffs. Everyone present that day was warned very clearly how to behave. I personally executed the given instructions and had a successful encounter wherein Buckbeak consented to carry me on a brief, and might I add quite an exhilarating flight, all without any danger to my person.” There was a great deal of murmured conversation that rose up at this revelation. “The injured party ignored those instructions; indeed he went against them nearly point by point, which caused the hippogriff to react as any hippogriff anywhere in the world would. Even then, Buckbeak’s response was measured: he struck once and backed off.”
Harry stopped to take a sip of water, and then Dudley saw him take a deep breath. “The accusatory party claims that Buckbeak is dangerous. That is accurate.” Harry paused to let that set in, and then just as whispers of conversation began to rise among the assembly again, he got up from his seat and took a few steps close to the Wizengamot’s seated members.
Beside Dudley, Daphne reached over without looking and took his hand where it sat on their shared armrest. “Good,” she murmured, her eyes still Harry. “Keep their attention. Hold the center.” She held on for a few seconds, and even when she let go her hand retreated only a small distance. The last two fingers of her hand were left resting on his forearm, a small spot of shared warmth in the cold air of the chamber.
“So are dragons,” continued Harry. “So are sphinxes. Even the owls we rely on for our daily communication are dangerous, if you treat them unkindly and uncarefully.” He paused, looking around the room. “Our legal system does not make a habit of destroying living things just for being dangerous. That is what the accusatory party has asked for. In fact, had we not filed for an injunction, it would already have happened. The appeal was to be held at the planned site of Buckbeak’s execution, mere minutes before the sentence was to be carried out if the appeal failed. To me that suggests the appeal was itself a farce.” He paused again, and his voice took on a different quality - firmer, with an undercurrent of anger. “The death of a living creature should be undertaken only as a last resort, after all consideration has been given to less extreme methods. That consideration was not given.”
Harry swept his eyes around the assembly. “You will find in the associated files for this case that no other options were considered, either in the initial claim or in the committee's deliberations. Neither rehabilitation nor relocation were looked at, let alone whether the incident in question was severe enough to even warrant a Ministry response. Buckbeak's handler during the incident, Professor Rubeus Hagrid, was cleared of all charges of wrongdoing. Again, if you'll refer to the files before you, you will see that in his case, it was deemed that enough warning had been given to achieve a safe and successful result for the lesson. Why, then, are we here discussing Buckbeak's execution?” Harry shook his head, and he let a hint of the real frustration he felt creep into his tone. “Why did it take an injunction and months of legal efforts on the part of Marchbanks & Co. to even allow that discussion to begin instead of the verdict itself being summarily carried out?”
He paced back and forth slowly, spreading his hands wide. “And this brings me to my second purpose. The way that this has played out is a very concerning demonstration of the vulnerabilities in the way we ensure justice, not just in this case but in our legal system as a whole. The names of the accuser and accused shouldn’t matter here before the law. What should matter is the evidence, to be considered with objectivity, reason, and compassion by the members of this august body. It is here that you of the Wizengamot mete out justice. It is here that you defend us, and strive to ensure fairness and equality for all. I submit to you that if a sentence of execution is handed down here today, it would be a victory won by names, not facts. By back channel dealing, not objective wisdom. By pride. By prejudice. That's not the world I stand for. That's not the world I lived for.”
Harry stood tall, holding the collective gaze of the Wizengamot. Daphne's hand was squeezing Dudley's again. “Oh, well done, Hermione,” she whispered.
“Didn’t you help write the thing?” Dudley muttered.
“Yes, but that line was hers alone. She wrote it before I had even looked at the script, and he delivered it perfectly.”
Neville rose out of his seat next to his grandmother, where he’d retired after giving his own testimony. “That's not a world I want to grow up in,” he said, his voice steadier than Dudley would have believed possible.
“Not me, either,” said Susan. She stood up out of her seat across the room. A whole sentence without swearing, thought Dudley with an odd sense of pride.
Harry raised his hands. “Esteemed members of the Wizengamot, I ask you to stand with me against this miscarriage of justice.”
There was a moment where it seemed to Dudley like the collective breath of the room was being held. Amelia Bones seized the opportunity. “All in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?”
Dudley’s eyes widened with disbelief. It was more than they'd talked about, and he was afraid the head of the DMLE had overreached. He shot a concerned look at Daphne, but she shook her head. “It's perfect. Harry’s speech demanded it. Madame Bones knows what she's doing - he's got them, you'll see.”
When it all shook out, he saw she was right. Augusta Longbottom and Amelia Bones were the first, but hands went up all around the room, one by one at first and then in groups of two and three, until it became clear that the Wizengamot had found in favor of Buckbeak. It wasn't unanimous, but it was more than a thin majority. There would be no execution.
There was a bit more to go over at the end of the hearing, but it all passed by Dudley in a blur. We won. We actually won. And at no point had Harry been in danger - it felt like a dream after their desperate escape from the Forbidden Forest had chained into braving the Chamber of Secrets. The year’s new threat, ‘notorious mass murderer Sirius Black’ had turned out to be not another villain but an unexpected ally. The real villain, Peter Pettigrew, was still out there, but that was a problem for the future.
Dudley had spent an entire year inside Hogwarts pretending to be a wizard, and he’d succeeded in both his primary mission, which was to keep Harry safe, and his secondary one, which was not to be caught and expelled. He’d made friends on his own merit as well as those he shared with Harry. His grades weren’t even too bad, if you didn’t consider Potions. He looked down at Daphne, with whom he had managed to spend over an hour in close quarters without putting his foot in his mouth and who was now in conversation with Hermione, discussing the finer points of the speech the Gryffindor girl had written. It’s too good to be true. When would the other shoe drop? He knew there had to be one.
As he was thinking that he caught sight of Crispin Marchbanks approaching. The heavy doors had barely finished closing behind the last of the Wizengamot. “Congratulations, Mr. Potter. If I may say so, you held up admirably, not just for someone your age, but for any wizard put in such a position.” He looked more satisfied than surprised, straightening his cuffs with a confident air as if the outcome had always been inevitable. “The speech Ms. Granger put together was something I might have expected from someone with a much greater length of experience, and your delivery was sound. You were able to humanize the case without lapsing into pure sentiment. A bit of well-placed flattery, the suggestion of a greater appeal to public opinion. You should be proud of yourselves.”
Harry shook hands with Crispin. “I appreciate it, Mr. Marchbanks. I may have been able to secure the end we wanted, but without you and your firm we would have had no chance to do so. Buckbeak would have been executed weeks ago. Thank you.”
“Yes, well. No thanks are necessary - this is, after all, my job.” Crispin’s tone turned practical. “Enjoy your victory, Mr. Potter, but you would do well not to rest on your laurels. Lucius Malfoy will not forget being publicly overruled by a teenager.”
“I hope he doesn’t,” replied Harry grimly.
“Do not allow your victory to cause you to begin taking him lightly, Mr. Potter. He remains influential, and quite dangerous. In more ways than one.” Crispin fixed Harry with a serious look until it was clear the boy understood him. “You’ve reminded certain other families that the law can be made to apply to them too.” He looked back down the corridor and his mouth twisted in distaste. “There are many for whom the law is a tool they feel is their right to use rather than the equally-applicable framework of an orderly society. You will be viewed as a political liability by such people. Just as importantly, you’re now known as someone who can move the Wizengamot, and that will mean would-be allies and favor-seekers may come out of the woodwork as well, if not now then certainly as you grow closer to your legal majority.”
I wonder how Daphne’s father will respond if Harry ever sends him another owl, thought Dudley. Aloud, he said, “If you had to name names, sir, who should we watch out for?”
Crispin pursed his lips and looked down the hallway where the members of the Wizengamot had exited the courtroom. He won’t tell us anything. Bloody Slytherins. He winced and carefully didn’t look at Daphne, afraid she would somehow divine the insult from his mind. A moment later Marchbanks surprised him, making him further regret the uncharitable thought. “I might as well be giving you a rundown of my former clients, Mr. Evans. I’ve done business with all of them over the years.” He sighed and then turned back to Harry, lowering his voice. “While not an exhaustive list, the Selwyns, Travers, and Nott voted against you today. They are names of significance every bit as much as Malfoy.”
Harry swallowed hard and nodded. “Anyone else?”
“Yes,” Crispin said calmly. “Nearly as important are those who voted with you but don’t like that they were forced to be persuaded. Few of your enemies will be as openly sinister as Lucius Malfoy, Mr. Potter. Shadowy dealings and intimidation are simply the methods he chooses as tools to work his will. Others are more subtle, perhaps even wearing friendly faces until such time as they deem it prudent to move against you.”
Dudley felt a chill run down his spine, and now he did look at Daphne, who was watching Marchbanks and nodding in agreement. She felt his eyes on her and whispered, “He’s right. I warned Harry already…Malfoy and Longbottom are powerful enough to move as they wish both in the open and behind closed doors. Most others, whether families or individuals, play a less obvious game.”
Marchbanks was continuing. “The Minister for Magic may smile and clap you on the back now, but mark my words: he’s already begun to wonder if and when you might try to undermine him. You’ve come very close to doing it already.” He paused to consult a small notebook pulled from his pocket. “Burke and Flint voted with you, but they did it because they feared public backlash against their interests, not because they believed in your cause.” He met Harry’s eyes squarely. “There are sure to be more like them that I am not as aware of. You’ve just proven you’re not just a famous name, Mr. Potter. From this point on, people won’t ask whether you can cause trouble. They’ll assume you will.” His expression softened just a fraction. “Which, of course, is a large part of why this worked out so well. Just…be aware. You’ve been at least adjacent to these matters your whole life because of who you are, but now you’ve truly stepped onto the board.”
THE END
of My Brother’s Keeper, Book One
The story will continue in Book Two.