Chapter Text
Dear Mr Potter,
Further to our letter of approximately twenty-two minutes ago, the Ministry of Magic has revised its decision to destroy your wand forthwith. You may retain your wand until your disciplinary hearing on the twelfth of August, at which time an official decision will be taken.
Following discussions with the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Ministry has agreed that the question of your expulsion will also be decided at that time. You should therefore consider yourself suspended from- school pending further enquiries.
With best wishes,
Yours sincerely,
Mafalda Hopkirk
Improper Use of Magic Office
Ministry of Magic
Harry was exhausted. After receiving the letter, and the assertions after it, he has been met with short-of silence, receiving nothing past a ministry owl on the 11th detailing instructions on how to reach the Ministry. Nobody has come for him, which meant Uncle Vernon had a field day - or maybe, a field week and a half - with him, the brat that decided to scar his poor Dudley for life, and now was finally going to be done with the wizardry croakery after getting well-deserved consequences. Which didn't exactly mean he, himself, wouldn't indulge in exercising punishment over the boy.
He adjusted the collar of his slightly stained robe, making sure his neck wasn't too visible. He had dwelled on casting a glamour on it, but he figured with the amount of scrutiny he was already under, it would be too dangerous to try. He thanked Merlin that wizard attire focused on covering everything possible as he approached the telephone booth. He managed to sneak out of the house at dawn, finding a way to exit with his door locked and Vernon inevitably guarding the bottom floor, and got to London with the earliest train he saw, so he most definitely was early. Way too early.
The number was quickly dialed
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, please state your name and business" The voice rang out as if from nowhere, startling Potter for a moment. Ah, of course. Magic.
"Um... Harry Potter, disciplinary hearing. No other persons."
The silence afterwards stretched out for uncomfortably long, deepening the pit already in his stomach.
"If I am in the wron-"
"Thank you. Visitor, take the badge and attach it to the front of your robe. As you are below the age of majority, an escort will be waiting for you as you arrive in order to take you to the hearing."
A small badge slid out of the coin slot and Harry barely had time to pin it onto his chest as the booth started sinking
"Visitor of the Ministry, you will be required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration. You will be escorted for that before the hearing
In no time had they reached the Ministry, a wizard clearly of age waiting in front of him. "Ah yes, Mr. Potter. Arrived rather early, hadn't we? Your meeting is in two hours" So it was somewhere around 7. Great to know now, Harry figured. "Not that it's a bad thing, of course. Too little wizards value punctuality these days, as if they've been battling the concept of time itself for Merlin's sake! Remember that balance is key though, unless you want to spend half your life waiting in offices" The man chuckled to himself, before schooling into a more serious expression. "We will take you for your search, and then I'll walk you to the hearing."
The search was quick, the guard opening his mouth as Harry's bangs were tousled, then quickly closing it after receiving expression-based schooling from... his escort?
"May I know your name, Mr..."
"Parkinson. You may remember my daughter, Pansy?" Before the boy could utter an answer, the man mused on "I have no idea who has been taking guardianship over you, Mr Potter, but given your shoddy record, it seems unwise to let you roam the streets alone and-
"Muggles." He didn't need to know more. Regardless, the silence draped over once again. Seems like Harry needed to get used to it as a common occurence, in this place at least.
He turned his attention to the surroundings instead, marvelling at all the novelties - robes in every colour thought possible swiftly passing by in every direction, flying piles of documents, sounds of somebody coming in and out of the floo every once in a while, flying letters - he flinched violently as one whizzed right past his head, beelining for the escalator, which has earned an (luckily unseen by the boy) odd stare from Mr. Parkinson. They went right behind the letter, getting into the escalator alongside a dozen of other ones.
"So..." Mr Parkinson seemed to regain his tongue alongside the vocal chords. He thankfully did not decide to use them in their full capacity (particularly thankfully, every sense seemed to be multiplied by the tenfold today which has earned him a head-splitting migraine), leaning over and whispering in Harry's ear "While I am not supposed to say that, as I am the part of today's trial, I doubt you'll receive punishment for such a petty crime. At worst, a longer suspension. Have led most of such cases, they rarely go beyond basic, weak punishment"
But he wasn't a normal wizard, and this wasn't a normal crime
The assurance did not assure him at all.
"Thank you sir"
They finally arrived at their floor, walking to the courtroom in silence. Potter, mersmerized by the decorum of the Ministry, did not notice his escort shooting glances - hell, scanning him from head to toe even - with an expression of slight concern, noting his unusually hanging and dirty robes, unwashed, barely schooled hair and something he was clearly intending to hide around his neck-
Just as they arrived to the court entrance, a timid wizard slammed out the door, his planned run halting in place right after noticing Harry.
"Ah right, Mr Potter! So you have received the owl? Everything seemed so fast, the meeting was pushed earlier around 15 minutes ago, to 8 o'clock. I assume you can go in by now, if you wish so.
...
The silence, again.
Right before a rather startled voice emanated from the middle of the highest bench. "Mr Potter! You're early." Cornelius Fudge. Head of the Ministry. Of course.
"I am on time. Was I not supposed to be?" The constant questioning was only attributing to his growing headache.
"Obviously not. Take a seat. The hearing shall start"
A few more figures winded in on the benches above as he hesitantly took a seat on the disheveled, chained chair. He still shuddered at the memory of said chains immidiately wrapping around a person, crushing, stifling, suffocating-
"Disciplinary hearing, on the 12th of August, into offences under the Decree for Rational Restrictions of Underage Sorcery as well as the International Statute of Secrecy committed by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive in Little Whinging"
With a corner of his eye, Harry looked over at a small empty spot on the benches
"Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley"
Percy? So he knew about the moved date. A shame he forgot to tell his father, or anybody at all
Fudge continued listing off the persons, omitting the empty slot (for his defence, probably), the list dragging on, and on, as Harry drifted away. He was hopeless. Trapped in a room with the only exit possible guarded, among 4 dozen wizards scrutinizing his every breath, with nobody to defend or vouch for him.
He truly should've simply stayed in his room and let them arrive, let them take and snap his wand, let them leave him to rot and maybe finally waste away at that-
"MR POTTER!" A shrill, sickly sweet voice snapped him out of his mind rambling, causing him to shiver in fear as the Minister's cold one rang out.
"Pay attention during the court speeches."
"Yes sir."
"I have asked for the third time already, are you Harry James Potter?"
"Yes"
"Three years ago, you have received an official warning regarding similar matters. Is this correct?"
"Yes"
"And yet, you've conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August, while being aware of the Decree and the Statute of Secrecy?"
"Yes,-"
Everything seemed extremely bright. It was hurting his eyes.
"While in a Muggle residential area, with full knowledge of your Muggle cousin being in your proximity?"
"Yes, but-"
"You've produced a fully fledged Patronus, Mr Potter?" The witch on Fudge's left spoke, Harry assumed it was Madam Bones. "Not a vapour or smoke? Fully formed?"
"Yes" Harry blinked, taken aback by the question "It's.. a stag. Always"
"Always? Have you cast a patronus before?"
"Yes, from arou.. around a year ago" The headache was killing him. As well as the acid in his stomach seeming to start to chew through it, almost. Merlin, he should've taken more muggle cash so that he could at least buy something on the way to London. But he did not, due to exhaustion. Or laziness and forgetfulness.
Oh well, isn't it consequences of your actions again.
He doubted whether he would've been able to hold anything down anyway.
"And how old are you, Mr. Potter?"
"15 years old-"
"If I may, Madam Bones-" Fudge began once more "-I believe this line of questioning is not related to the topic of the hearing. "The boy's spellcasting abilities should not be noted when the point is about him casting in front of a Muggle. In fact, the more impressive a spell the worse it is, given just how much one Muggle boy can tattle to others! Shouldn't a well-versed wizard also possibly know about the issues with tracking down all informed muggles *and* having to take them away in order to wipe their memories, and-" As the Minister tattled on, Harry watched some of the wizards in lower benches nodding along, definitely enough for a majority. He needed to do something, but he couldn't think of anything, everything felt as if made of cotton, somehow including his head-
"D..ementors"
"What?" This seemed to stop Fudge's tirade, confusion clouding his features before settling into an unserious grin. "Mr Potter, if you wish for your answers to be replied to, you have to use whole sentences-"
"I... did it.. because of the dementors" The lower benches caught on the boy's odd speaking manner, some attempting to tug at the woman on Cornelius' right. "They... Attacked us." Another pause in Potter's speech, not going unnoticed. "Me and my cousin"
Madam Bones immidiately perked up "Dementors? Attack? In Little Whinging? What do you mean, boy?"
"Oh, I perfectly know what he means, Amelia, no reason to ask him that" Fudge butted in once again "You don't? Let me explain. You see, the young man in front of us has been thinking of the perfect cover-up for himself. Dementors were a brilliant choice, I'll admit. Cannot be seen by Muggles, so it's just his words, and warding them off from poor, defenseless muggles... act worthy of a selfless hero, isn't it? The Boy-Wh"
"I'm... not lying"
"Of course you are not, boy. However, with only your word as evidence,-" Cornelius froze, staring at the boy.
Who had currently started to sway.
"Mr Potter? Feigning a malady in order to gain sympathy among the Wizengamot is not only pityable, it is also against court conduct"
...
The murmurs grew more loud and agitated as Harry strengthened his grip on the chair
"Mr Potter, are you feeling well? Can you hear me? Mr Potter?"
"Mr Potter!"
The last things he sensed were a shout of one of the wizards and a guard catching him as he slipped from the chair, before blacking out.