**Chapter 252**
Harry gasped. He couldn't control himself. The hall he had just entered felt extremely familiar. He hadn't only seen it once before—he had actually been inside it.
This was the same hall he had seen in the photographs Sirius showed him during his trial for the charges that had hung over him for more than twelve years.
The walls were made of dark stone, the place lit by torches. On both sides were rows of empty seats, but ahead of him, at the front of the hall, he saw the shadows of several people sitting on a raised platform.
They had been talking in low voices, but the heavy thud of the door closing behind Harry brought complete silence.
A cold, masculine voice rang across the courtroom.
"You're late."
Harry said anxiously, "Sorry… I… I didn't know the time had been changed."
The voice replied, "This is not the fault of the Wizengamot. We sent an owl to your home this morning. Sit down."
Harry glanced at the chair in the middle of the room. Its arms appeared to be covered in chains. He saw the chains twitch with life, ready to bind whoever sat in the seat. His footsteps echoed loudly on the stone floor as he walked. When he sat on the edge of the chair, the chains stirred but did not bind him. Feeling nauseous, he raised his eyes to the people seated on the platform before him.
There were about fifty of them, or so he estimated.
They wore peach-colored robes with a beautiful silver Latin letter *W* on the left side of the chest. All of them were staring at him. Some had stern expressions, while others showed only open curiosity.
In the center sat Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. Fudge was a portly man who usually wore a lime-green bowler hat, but today he had dispensed with it — just as he had dispensed with the indulgent smile he once wore when speaking to Harry.
To Fudge's left sat a broad, square-jawed witch with very short grey hair. She wore a monocle and had severely harsh features. To Fudge's right sat another witch, lounging so casually in her seat that her face was hidden in shadow.
"Excellent," said Fudge. "With the accused now present… at last… let us begin." He then called to someone sitting below the platform: "Ready?"
A voice Harry knew well answered, "Yes, sir." It was Percy, Ron's brother, sitting at the far end of the front row on the platform.
Harry looked at him, expecting some sign of welcome, but there was none. Percy's eyes were hidden behind glasses perched on rolls of parchment, with a quill in his hand.
In a ringing voice, while Percy wrote behind him, Fudge declared: "Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August regarding the violation of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by the accused, Harry James Potter, resident at Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.
"The interrogators are: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister of Magic… Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement… Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister… and the Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley…"
"And present as a witness for the defense: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," came the last calm voice from behind Harry, who turned his head so quickly that his neck cracked.
Dumbledore strode across the hall wearing his midnight-blue robes, his face perfectly calm.
His long silver hair and beard gleamed in the torchlight as he approached Harry and looked at Fudge from behind his half-moon spectacles, which rested on his long nose.
The members of the Wizengamot began murmuring.
All eyes were fixed on Dumbledore. Some looked disturbed, others frightened, but two witches in the back row waved their hands in welcome.
A powerful surge of emotion rose in Harry's chest at the sight of Dumbledore — a feeling of hope similar to what he felt when the phoenix sang. He wanted to look into Dumbledore's eyes, but the Headmaster did not glance at him. He simply stared at Fudge, on whose face clear confusion was visible.
"Ah… Dumbledore… yes, yes…" Fudge said with great unease. "Did… did you receive our message about the change of time and venue for the hearing, then?"
Dumbledore replied brightly, "It appears it has not yet reached me. But thanks to a fortunate coincidence — and as they say, a happy coincidence is better than a thousand appointments — I arrived at the Ministry three hours before the previously scheduled time for the hearing. The reason for my early presence was to alert someone about this matter. So, as you can see, everything is quite in order.
"Ah, we need another chair… Weasley, if you would…"
"No need to worry," said Dumbledore cheerfully. He drew his wand and with a light flick conjured a comfortable chair beside Harry. He sat down, laced his fingers together, and looked at Fudge with polite interest.
The Wizengamot members continued murmuring nonstop. Only when Fudge spoke again did they fall completely silent.
"Er… yes… I mean… ah… the charges are… yes," said Fudge, shuffling through his papers. He pulled out a sheet from the pile in front of him, sighed, and began to read:
"The charges against the accused are as follows:
The accused — in full possession of his mental faculties, and with deliberate and full awareness of his actions, despite having received a written warning from the Ministry of Magic in response to a previous similar offense — performed the Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle, on the second of August at twenty-three minutes past nine in the evening. This offense is punishable under Clause C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery of 1875, and also under Article 13 of the International Statute of Secrecy."
Fudge finished by asking, "Harry, are you Harry James Potter, resident at Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?" while staring at him over his rolls of parchment.
"Yes," said Harry.
"And did you receive an official warning from the Ministry following your previous illegal use of magic three years ago?"
"Yes, but—"
"And despite this, you performed the Patronus Charm on the night of the second of August?"
"Yes…"
"And you are aware that you are not permitted to use magic outside school while you are under the age of seventeen?"
"…Yes."
"And you are aware that you were in a Muggle-populated area at the time?"
"Yes."
"And you are aware that you were in the presence of a Muggle at that moment?"
"Yes…" said Harry angrily, "but I only performed the charm because we were—"
The witch with the monocle interrupted in a booming voice: "Did you perform a full Patronus Charm?"
"Yes, because—"
"A corporeal Patronus?"
"A what?" said Harry.
"Did the Patronus you produced have a distinct form? I mean, was it more than just vapor or smoke?"
"Yes," said Harry, growing impatient and slightly frustrated. "It was a stag… It's always a stag."
"Always?" cried Madam Bones. "You have performed the Patronus Charm before?"
"Yes… I've been able to do it for over a year."
"And you are fifteen years old?"
"Yes… and—"
"Did you learn it at school?"
"Yes. Professor Lupin taught me in my third year, because of the—"
"Remarkable," said Madam Bones, staring at him. "A Patronus at this age is truly impressive."
Some of the witches and wizards around her began murmuring again. A few nodded in approval, but others frowned and shook their heads.
"The issue is not the power of the magic he performed," said Fudge. "In fact, the stronger it is, the harsher the punishment — especially when performed in front of a Muggle."
After Fudge finished speaking, clear signs of tension, dread, and fear appeared on his face — something Dumbledore noticed, though he said nothing.
The members murmured in agreement, but it was the sight of Percy's disapproving nod that finally pushed Harry to speak.
"I performed the charm because of the Dementors!" he said loudly, before anyone could interrupt him again.
He had expected more murmuring, but instead a deep silence fell over everyone — denser and heavier than before.
"Dementors?" said Madam Bones after a moment, her thick eyebrows rising so high it looked as though her monocle might fall off. "What do you mean, boy?"
"I mean there were two Dementors in that alley. They attacked me and my cousin," said Harry.
Fudge spoke again, a triumphant look on his face as he glanced around at the Wizengamot members as if inviting them to share the joke: "Aha… yes, yes… I was expecting to hear something like this."
"Dementors in Little Whinging?" said Madam Bones in great astonishment. "I don't understand—"
"Really, Amelia?" said Fudge sarcastically. "Let me explain it to you. He's been trying to think of an escape, and he came up with the idea of feeding us this story about Dementors so we'd believe him and let him off. Muggles can't see Dementors, can they, boy? What a convincing tale… So it's just your word, with no witnesses and no—"
"I'm not lying!" Harry said loudly, triggering another wave of protesting murmurs in the hall. "There were two of them. They came toward me from the sides of the alley. Everything went dark, I felt a terrible cold, my cousin sensed the danger and tried to run and—"
"Enough, enough," said Fudge with a haughty look on his face. "I'm sorry to interrupt what I'm sure is a well-rehearsed story—"
Dumbledore gave a deliberate cough, and silence fell over the Wizengamot once again.
"In fact, we have a witness to the presence of two Dementors in that alley," said Dumbledore. "And I mean a witness other than Dudley Dursley."
Fudge's plump face looked as though the air had been let out of it. He stared at Dumbledore for a moment, then, as if gathering his thoughts, said, "We don't have time to listen to nonsense, Dumbledore. I want to deal with this matter quickly and—"
"I may be mistaken," said Dumbledore mildly, "but I am confident that, according to the Wizengamot Charter of Rights for Witches and Wizards, the accused has the right to present witnesses in support of his or her case. Is that not the policy of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Madam Bones?" He added the last question while addressing the monocled witch.
"Yes, exactly," said Madam Bones.
"Ah… well, well…" said Fudge irritably. "And where is this witness?"
"She came with me and is waiting outside. Do you permit her to en—"
"No," said Fudge. Then he shouted to Percy, "Weasley, you go." Percy set off eagerly, running across the stone floor of the hall, passing below the judges' platform and going past Dumbledore and Harry without looking at either of them.
A moment later he returned, followed by Mrs. Figg. She looked frightened and more bat-like than ever. Harry wished she had changed out of those noisy shoes.
Dumbledore stood up, gave Mrs. Figg his chair, and conjured another one for himself in the same manner as before.
"Full name?" said Fudge loudly. Mrs. Figg was sitting on the edge of her seat in great discomfort.
"Arabella Doreen Figg," she said in a trembling voice.
"And what exactly are you?" asked Fudge in a bored, arrogant tone.
"I live in Little Whinging, near where Harry Potter lives," said Mrs. Figg.
"We have no record of any witch or wizard living in Little Whinging other than Harry Potter," said Madam Bones immediately, "especially considering the area has been under close surveillance ever since… the previous events."
"I'm a Squib," said Mrs. Figg. "That's why you won't find me in the records… isn't that right?"
"A Squib, eh?" said Fudge, examining her suspiciously. "We'll verify that. Leave the details about your parents and family with Assistant Weasley. But can Squibs see Dementors?" he added, looking left and right along the platform.
"Yes," said Mrs. Figg proudly. "We can see them."
Fudge looked at her again, one eyebrow raised, and said without much interest, "Very well… what is your story?"
Mrs. Figg spoke at once, as though she had memorized what she was going to say: "I went out to buy cat food from the grocer at the corner of Wisteria Walk, around nine o'clock on the evening of the second of August… when I heard a commotion coming from the alley between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk. As I approached the entrance of the alley, I saw two Dementors gliding—"
"Dementors don't run, they glide above the ground," said Madam Bones sharply.
"That's what I meant," said Mrs. Figg quickly. Pink spots had begun to appear on her withered cheeks. "They were gliding across the ground of the alley, heading toward what looked to me like the boy."
"What did they look like?" asked Madam Bones, narrowing her eyes until the edge of her monocle disappeared into the folds of her skin.
"One was very fat and the other was thin…"
"No, no," said Madam Bones impatiently. "I mean, describe the Dementors to us!"
"They were big… very big, and they were wearing cloaks," said Mrs. Figg. The pink color was creeping up her neck.
Harry felt a sinking feeling in his chest. No matter what Mrs. Figg said, it sounded at best like a description of a picture of a Dementor. A picture could never convey the true nature of these creatures — the terrifying way they moved, gliding a few inches above the ground, the foul stench that came from them, or the horrifying sounds they made that froze the air around them…
In the second row, a wizard with a large black mustache leaned forward and whispered in his neighbor's ear. She was a witch with wild hair. She gave a sarcastic smile and nodded.
"Big and wearing cloaks," repeated Madam Bones coldly, while Fudge said mockingly, "Clear enough. Will you be adding anything else?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Figg. "I felt them. Everything around me became cold, even though it was one of the warmest summer nights, as you know… and I felt as though all the happiness was being sucked out of the world… and I remembered… I remembered terrible things…"
Her voice trembled and then fell silent completely.
Madam Bones's eyes widened slightly. Harry saw red patches under her eyebrow where the edge of the monocle had dug in.
"And what did the Dementors do?" she asked. Harry felt a wave of hope.
"They approached the two boys," said Mrs. Figg, her voice stronger and more confident now, the redness receding from her face. "One of the boys fell to the ground. The other stepped back, trying to repel the Dementor. That was Harry. He tried twice, but only weak silvery vapor came from his wand. On the third try, a Patronus emerged from the tip of his wand. It attacked the first Dementor, and then, growing bolder, chased the second one away from his cousin. And that… that is what happened…"
Madam Bones looked at Mrs. Figg in silence. Fudge did not look at her at all and busied himself with his papers. Finally he raised his eyes and said aggressively, "Is that what you saw?"
"That is what happened," repeated Mrs. Figg.
"Very well… you may leave," said Fudge.
Mrs. Figg cast a fearful glance at Fudge, then at Dumbledore, and hurried toward the door.
*To be continued...*