Having not seen each other for half a month, Harry had much to say to Sirius, but today was such an extraordinary occasion that after a simple greeting, he found himself at a loss for words.
Sirius couldn't help but laugh. "I'm the one going to court, so why do you look more nervous than me?"
"Of course I am," Harry blurted out.
Dumbledore smiled too. "Rest assured, nothing unexpected will happen today. Haven't you been reading the Daily Prophet these past few days?"
"I have," Harry nodded. "I read every article about Sirius several times."
Sirius ruffled Harry's hair.
Dumbledore said gently, "Then you should understand that if Fudge weren't willing to release Sirius, he wouldn't have given that interview to the Daily Prophet."
"As Minister for Magic, once he's made a decision, he won't change it easily. Moreover, we have all our witnesses and evidence prepared. There won't be any surprises."
At this, Harry suddenly remembered something and looked around. "Professor, where's Peter Pettigrew?"
"Severus has already taken him to the Ministry of Magic."
Harry immediately grew worried. What if Snape wanted to sabotage Sirius and simply let Peter escape?
But seeing how calm both Dumbledore and Sirius appeared, he didn't voice his doubts.
He could only silently pray that Snape would do the decent thing.
"Harry, hold onto my arm," Dumbledore said with a wink. "I'd actually love to experience Muggle transportation, but since Sirius is still a wanted man, we'll have to save that for another time."
Harry obediently grasped one of Dumbledore's arms while Sirius took the other.
Their bodies twisted and blurred into a tangled ball of yarn before vanishing from Privet Drive.
Harry felt himself spinning as if being squeezed through a thick rubber tube. Every part of his body was compressed, making it impossible to breathe.
Just as he thought he couldn't endure it any longer, the tube suddenly shattered. His feet hit solid ground, and he gasped for air.
They stood in the bustling heart of London, where countless people streamed past every second. Yet no one gave their abrupt appearance a second glance.
Sirius patted Harry's back, hoping to ease his discomfort.
"The first time Apparating is always unpleasant, especially over such a long distance. You'll get used to it."
"I-I'm fine," Harry shook his head and straightened up.
Looking around at the towering skyscrapers, he asked in surprise, "The Ministry of Magic is built in a place like this?"
"I think you should be getting used to this by now," Dumbledore gestured for them to follow. "Just like Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, wizards are increasingly intertwined with Muggle society—though many old-fashioned types refuse to admit it."
Harry nodded vaguely in understanding. He followed Dumbledore through the lively streets until they reached a shabby little road lined with a few low, dilapidated houses.
"We're here," Dumbledore pointed to a nearly derelict red telephone box, then conjured a set of handcuffs and shackles for Sirius.
"My apologies, but this procedure is necessary."
"I understand." Sirius nodded nonchalantly and put it on.
The cramped space became even more crowded with three people inside. Dumbledore dialled the rotary, and a woman's cold voice echoed through the phone booth – not from the receiver, but from all directions.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."
"Albus Dumbledore, Sirius Black, Harry Potter, here for today's hearing."
"Thank you," said the woman. "Please take your badges and attach them to your chests. You will need to submit to a check and register your wands at the security desk."
Three silver badges tumbled out from the coin return slot. No sooner had Harry pinned his to his chest than the phone booth shuddered violently and began descending.
Darkness swallowed them overhead. Harry could only hear the screech of grinding metal. After about a minute, a golden light appeared at his feet, gradually widening as the booth's descent slowed before stopping abruptly. The door before them flew open.
So this was the Ministry of Magic?
Blinking to adjust his vision, Harry gazed curiously at the imposing hall before him.
The central golden statue, the rows of constantly active fireplaces, and the many wizards rushing past with expressionless, downturned faces.
Harry suddenly thought they didn't look much different from the Muggles he'd seen commuting to work – that same look of utter resignation.
"Dumbledore, you've finally arrived."
A tall black man who'd been waiting strode over.
"Are we late, Shacklebolt?" Dumbledore inquired.
Their greeter was Kingsley Shacklebolt, though Dumbledore didn't seem particularly familiar with him, his manner rather cool.
"Not at all," Kingsley shook his head. "Your hearing's been scheduled second, but Peter Pettigrew has already arrived. Minister Fudge has been expecting you."
Dumbledore nodded. "Once Harry's had his wand checked, we'll proceed immediately."
"I'll accompany you," said Kingsley, positioning himself beside Sirius in what appeared to be a surveillance capacity.
Dumbledore frowned slightly but said nothing, leading Harry towards the wand registration desk at the far end of the hall.
Passing the fountain, Harry noticed numerous silver Sickles and bronze Knuts at the bottom of the pool, beside which stood a small, rusted plaque.
[All proceeds from the Fountain of Magical Brethren donated to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries]
"If you're acquitted, I'll throw in ten Galleons," Harry told Sirius.
Sirius grinned. "Then I'll donate a thousand Galleons directly to St Mungo's. This fountain couldn't hold that much."
Kingsley's mouth twitched violently at his words.
The Black Family truly lived up to their reputation as the wealthiest of purebloods. A thousand Galleons... nearly half a year's salary for him.
"Is that Black?"
"It really is him. So Dumbledore's his custodian?"
"Seems there really was something fishy about that case. Look how relaxed Black appears."
Many had noticed this unusual group, whispering amongst themselves, though no one seemed concerned about Sirius suddenly attacking or fleeing.
With an Auror and Dumbledore himself as guards, it was safer than being watched by Dementors.
"Dumbledore, you go first."
A long queue stretched before the wand registration window, but the wizard at the front stepped aside to let them pass.
"Thank you, Costi," Dumbledore said gratefully.
Costi shook his head. "It's fine, I'm in no hurry."
Lowering his voice, he asked, "Is Black truly innocent?"
"You'll know the truth when the trial concludes," Dumbledore replied without elaboration. Costi didn't press further and retreated to the back of the queue.
Harry handed his wand to the witch behind the counter.
"Eleven inches, Phoenix feather core, three years of use, correct?"
"That's right."
After recording the details, the witch returned the wand to Harry, though her gaze remained fixed on Sirius throughout. Her heart raced.
Just looking at his face, she'd already decided to believe in Sirius's innocence.
How could such a broodingly handsome middle-aged man possibly be a murderer?
There must have been some mistake all those years ago.
"Good luck," the witch whispered, leaving Sirius utterly bewildered.
Following the crowd, the four entered a lift already occupied by several people who greeted Dumbledore warmly yet instinctively edged away from Sirius, maintaining a cautious distance.
The lift ascended before descending, its occupants gradually thinning until only Harry's group remained.
"Department of Mysteries, level nine," announced a cold female voice.
"We're here. The courtroom is one floor below—the lift doesn't go directly. We'll need to take the stairs," said Kingsley, holding the door open for the others.
"The courtroom's being used?" Dumbledore sounded surprised. "I assumed proceedings would be held at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
"Well... that was the Minister's decision," Kingsley replied awkwardly.
They traversed a long corridor before reaching a pitch-black wooden door. Dumbledore's wand flared to life, illuminating their path.
Only then did Harry realise—Dumbledore hadn't registered his wand, yet nobody had questioned it.
The stairwell led them to an oppressively grim lower level.
Harry and Sirius instinctively held their breath. Even Sirius, who'd appeared nonchalant earlier, now tensed visibly.
After two turns, they spotted two Aurors flanking a massive set of doors.
Upon seeing Sirius, the Aurors stepped forward, positioning themselves on either side of him.
"Dumbledore, we'll need to take him for preliminary checks first."
"I know, Harry. Let's go in first."
With that, Dumbledore pushed open the doors, and a wave of noisy chatter immediately spilt out.
Harry surveyed the scene inside. The courtroom was a large, square room laid out much like a Muggle court, with a defendant's chair in the centre and two defence positions on either side.
A crowd sat on tiered benches, filling more than half the seats. They wore deep crimson robes and matching pointed hats, each bearing an elaborate silver 'W' embroidered on their left breast, murmuring amongst themselves.
"Albus, you've finally arrived," Fudge said briskly as he approached. "You're today's presiding judge. Without you, I'd have no confidence at all."
"Please look after Harry for me, Cornelius," Dumbledore said with a smile.
Fudge placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, his expression warm. "Don't worry. We've met several times—he's a good lad."
The waiting Daily Prophet reporter immediately began snapping photos furiously, making Fudge's smile widen further.
Dumbledore swept his wand over himself, his robes transforming to match the crimson ones, and donned a tall, pointed hat before taking his place at the judge's bench.
Fudge led Harry to sit behind the defendant's chair.
"Minister Fudge, is Professor Dumbledore still the judge?" Harry asked curiously.
"That's not entirely wrong, but strictly speaking, the Wizengamot isn't just a panel of judges—it's a governing body. Important legal statutes and major decisions in the wizarding world must pass through the Wizengamot. Albus is currently the Chief Warlock."
Fudge added self-deprecatingly, "Compared to the entire Wizengamot, my position as Minister for Magic is nothing. Fortunately, I'm also a member."
Harry smiled too. His impression of Fudge had always been good. Last summer, not only had Fudge not punished him for underage magic, but he'd also arranged accommodation at the Leaky Cauldron. And now, with his willingness to help clear Sirius's name, Harry's opinion of him had risen even higher.
Just then, the side door of the Great Hall opened. Two Aurors escorted a scruffy, middle-aged man and led him to the defendant's chair.
"Who's that?" Harry asked, eyeing the man curiously.
"The former Head of the Auror Office, Rufus Scrimgeour."
Harry started. Ever since learning what Aurors were, he'd dreamed of becoming one after graduation. Yet here was the head of that very department—arrested?
"What crime did he commit?" Harry asked.
Fudge's expression turned odd. He hesitated before finally saying, "If we must name his crime... it would be offending Mr Lawrence."
"Huh?" Harry's face was a picture of confusion.
"Speaking of which, why hasn't Mr Lawrence arrived yet?" Fudge frowned, noticing that many Wizengamot members were also absent. He'd explicitly instructed everyone who could attend to be present. Yet barely half had shown up—where were the rest?
Dumbledore was troubled by the same issue. The defendant was present, but the plaintiff had not yet arrived. How could they proceed?
Creak!
Creak!
Fortunately, just as Dumbledore was growing increasingly concerned and preparing to buy Wayne some time, the heavy doors swung open once more.
All eyes turned towards the entrance.
A handsome young man entered, flanked by a delicate-looking girl and followed by several dozen members of the Wizengamot – all elderly witches and wizards. Their faces bore ingratiating smiles as they chattered animatedly to the youth, making other Wizengamot members shift uncomfortably in their seats.
You're seriously lowering our standards here.
What shocked Harry even more was seeing Fudge rise to greet the newcomer again.
Wayne extended his hand for a brief shake with Fudge, casually remarking, "Apologies. First time at the Ministry – got a bit carried away sightseeing. You don't mind, do you, Minister?"
"Not at all, of course not," Fudge shook his head rapidly. "Besides, Mr Lawrence isn't late. Right on time, actually."
"Which seat's mine?" Wayne glanced around curiously until Fudge gestured towards the plaintiff's bench.
The young man nodded and turned to the girl beside him. "Senior, grab any seat. We'll get dinner after this wraps up."
"Alright." Grace gave a slight nod before moving to the spectator gallery.
Wayne took his place at the plaintiff's bench while the remaining Wizengamot members returned to their seats, their expressions turning solemn. The atmosphere in the chamber grew heavier, finally acquiring the gravitas befitting a courtroom.
Harry stared dumbfounded at Wayne lounging in his chair, an absurd thought surfacing uncontrollably in his mind.
This display... Wayne wasn't attending a trial – he might as well be here to buy the Ministry!