"Level Nine, Department of Mysteries."
The cold, female voice echoed in the lift as Melvin and the headmaster stepped out.
Outside the lift stretched a straight, uncurved corridor with rough, black walls. No doors or windows lined the sides, only a single, slightly ominous black wooden door at the far end.
Melvin's gaze drifted past the corridor to the unremarkable door. According to Wright, it concealed the Ministry of Magic's most secretive research projects.
"The work of the Unspeakables is highly confidential," Dumbledore said softly. "We believe their research could change the world."
"Hm…" Melvin responded noncommittally.
From the ancient magical eras of Egypt and the Maya to modern institutions like the American Magical Congress and the Ministry of Magic, every era and every wizarding government had similar departments. They all claimed to probe the essence of magic, the boundaries of life and death, the nature of time and space…
Some had been at it for centuries, others for nearly a millennium, and yet, as far as Melvin knew, none had made significant progress.
Some research even had downsides. Hieroglyphic runes had faded into obscurity, leaving only runestones to limp on, while ancient magic was almost entirely lost.
Turning left from the lift, they descended a dim, chilly stone staircase. At the bottom was another corridor, eerily similar to Hogwarts' dungeons—rough stone walls, torches in brackets, and heavy wooden doors with iron bolts and keyholes on either side.
The doors led to courtrooms, numbered one to ten. The higher the number, the graver the case.
Melvin and Dumbledore's hearing was set for Courtroom Four.
Since it was still early and the Wizengamot members hadn't all arrived, Melvin and Dumbledore didn't enter the courtroom. Instead, they waited in an adjacent anteroom. The Ministry staff they met were courteous, their words and actions respectful, treating them not as defendants or suspects but with deference.
"No need to worry, Headmaster Dumbledore," one staff member said. "Umbridge is so desperate for a promotion she's lost her mind suing you. The Minister's away on a visit and hasn't returned yet, or he'd have stopped this absurd hearing. But the other Wizengamot members see through her. They won't let her get her way."
"Professor Wright, every pub in Britain sings your name," another added. "My colleagues and I grab drinks after work, and we all agree the Mirror of Shadows is a game-changer for the wizarding world."
"My honor," Melvin replied, thanking them politely.
Dumbledore, however, said little after entering the anteroom, his mood subdued.
Noticing this, Melvin offered some reassurance, mindful of the elderly wizard's feelings. "Don't worry, sir. We planned for this during the Christmas holidays. The hearing won't take long, and we'll be back at Hogwarts in time to sit in on Harry's Dark Lord primer."
"I'm just… a bit regretful," Dumbledore said quietly. "Cornelius was once a fine wizard. In less than two years, his heart has shriveled, consumed by a thirst for power, like a hairy heart from some dark tale."
…
"Silence."
A shrill, childlike voice echoed through the courtroom, deliberately affected and cloyingly sweet. Knowing it came from a middle-aged witch made it all the more jarring, leaving most wizards in the room uncomfortable.
The headmaster and professor, standing calmly in the center, were unfazed as they surveyed the courtroom.
It was a spacious underground chamber, tiered like an amphitheater. The outer ring held the Wizengamot and spectator seats, while the inner circle featured a low stone platform. At its center stood an iron chair fitted with shackles and a copper lock, designed to create an oppressive atmosphere of scrutiny.
A faint dampness hung in the air. The walls, floor, and ceiling were built from black stone, and the torches and oil lamps did little to brighten the space. Harsh light poured through a skylight, illuminating the dark tables and chairs.
At the high table in front stood the presiding officer, Dolores Umbridge, wearing a black, square-rimmed wizard's hat and a judicial robe. Her neatly curled hair framed her forehead, her short, stout frame and sagging skin giving her an unhealthy, pinkish hue. A false, kindly smile plastered her face, like a poorly made wax figure.
On either side sat Wizengamot members in plum-colored robes, each with a silver "W" embroidered on the left chest. They glanced at the two in the center, whispering softly.
Melvin recognized several faces: Madam Marchbanks and Professor Tofty from the Wizarding Examinations Authority, Scrimgeour from the Ministry, and Crouch and Bones, whom he'd seen in newspaper photos but never met.
Some nodded to Dumbledore, others looked apologetic, and a few averted their eyes, guilt flickering in their expressions.
Though Melvin knew Dumbledore had chosen to face this trial, he felt a twinge of guilt. If not for the Mirror of Shadows, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot would be seated above, not standing here under scrutiny.
"The trial of February 2nd," Umbridge announced in her grating, high-pitched voice, her toad-like eyes fixed on Dumbledore. "Presiding officer: Dolores Jane Umbridge, Director of the Office of Improper Use of Magic. Court scribe: Nymphadora Tonks…"
Tonks, recording the proceedings, gave Dumbledore a quick wink, then Melvin, as a small gesture of apology.
"Trial of Muggle Studies Professor Melvin Ryan Wright," Umbridge continued, pausing as her eyes gleamed with excitement over the next name. "And Hogwarts' current headmaster, Albus Percival—"
"Sorry to interrupt," Melvin cut in with a cough, stopping Umbridge before she could read Dumbledore's name as a defendant. Stepping toward the presiding officer's table, his voice rang out clearly, like a bell, reaching every wizard in the room:
"Honored members of the Wizengamot, I believe you all understand the origin of today's charges. This case lacks any procedural legitimacy.
"According to Section 19, Clause 3 of the Ministry's Legal Enforcement Regulations, violations involving the sale of prohibited magical items by a foreign wizard fall under the jurisdiction of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. The wizard must receive written notification, and no criminal trial can proceed until the investigation is complete.
"Yet this case was initiated by Director Umbridge, bypassing preliminary review.
"If a mid-level department head can, on a whim, sidestep proper judicial process and haul an ordinary wizard—or the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot—into court, what is the point of the Ministry establishing the Wizengamot in the first place?"
This was the plan Melvin and Wright had devised, leveraging his status as a foreign wizard to shift jurisdiction to the Department of International Magical Cooperation, away from Fudge and Umbridge's influence.
Barty Crouch, head of that department, had lost his shot at Minister due to his Death Eater son but was reputed to be fair in his work. Wright trusted he'd handle the case impartially. If not, Melvin knew a few secrets that could… gently persuade him.
Crouch, seated among the Wizengamot, showed no particular expression, unaware he was being sized up.
The Mirror of Shadows, a recent magical invention, wasn't strictly prohibited. If not for its unique function catching Umbridge's eye, Wright and Monkstanley might've been nominated for a Merlin Award.
The Wizengamot members buzzed with discussion. Many hadn't expected this foreign professor to challenge the proceedings so directly, let alone display such a thorough grasp of Ministry law.
Madam Marchbanks watched the young professor below. Though he stood lower, looking up, he carried an air of authority that seemed to overshadow the presiding officer.
The Wizengamot split into three factions: those loyal to Dumbledore, those backing Umbridge under Fudge's influence, and those neutral, caught between.
"You!" Umbridge bit back her anger, forcing a neutral expression. The veins in her neck bulged, her face taut as if strangled. After a pause, she squeaked in her fake, girlish voice:
"Mr. Wright, I'm sure you have much to say, but save it for your defense. Let me conduct the trial. Perhaps you're unfamiliar with proper procedure, having graduated from Ilvermorny, that hastily built, short-lived school. Oh, my apologies—I forgot you didn't even graduate, and your field is the crude study of Muggles…"
Madam Marchbanks frowned, glaring at the presiding witch.
Wright's earlier remarks had been insightful. Lately, the Wizarding Examinations Authority had been studying Muggle concepts of procedural justice, and they'd hoped to hear more from Wright on the Wizengamot and Ministry. But Umbridge had dragged a discussion of systems down to petty personal attacks.
Such a witch wasn't fit to debate the Authority's special consultant. Marchbanks had no patience for her grating nonsense.
At over two hundred years old, Marchbanks had little tolerance for annoyances. Clearing her throat, she said, "This case is indeed irregular. Per Article 5 of the Ministry's Judicial Procedure Convention, I propose we move to a vote—"
Umbridge's face twisted. "This is contempt of court! Contempt of the presiding officer!" she shrieked, her fake girlish voice cracking into something like a crow's caw.
The last time the Ministry meddled with Hogwarts' curriculum, this "old hag" had rallied the Wizengamot to vote it down. Now, with the Mirror of Shadows, she was at it again!
One was a bureau chief with two centuries of prestige, calm and composed. The other, a newly promoted office director, fuming and flustered. The clash was no contest. Dumbledore's allies quickly sided with Marchbanks, and even the neutrals didn't hesitate.
"Those who believe the Mirror of Shadows is a prohibited item, raise your hands," Marchbanks said.
"I object!" Umbridge screeched, her voice breaking.
Marchbanks didn't even glance at her. "Those who believe the Mirror of Shadows is not a prohibited item, raise your hands."
Over two-thirds of the Wizengamot raised their hands. The outcome was clear.
Scrimgeour, seated to the right, watched the scene with a complex expression.
Was this Dumbledore's doing? Probably not.
Marchbanks' argument clearly favored Wright, framing the vote around the Mirror's legality, never treating Dumbledore or Wright as criminals.
The Authority's old wizards were evidently backing their consultant. In less than a year, this Professor Wright had quietly built his own influence.
With that thought, Scrimgeour cast his vote, deeming the Mirror legal.
Aside from a few of Fudge's loyalists, no one cared for the presiding officer's opinion. The tally was quickly settled: fewer than a third deemed the Mirror prohibited.
"You're defying the court! Defying the Ministry!" Umbridge gasped, her neck veins twisting as she struggled to contain her rage.
Madam Bones, from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, stood. "The charges are dismissed!" she declared.
The courtroom erupted in noise as Wizengamot members began filing out.
"Wait until the Minister returns…" Umbridge muttered, hiding the humiliation and venom in her eyes as she stormed off.
"A delightful outcome!" Madam Marchbanks said loudly, her eyes catching Umbridge's quickened, angry steps. Smiling with satisfaction, she shakily left her seat and approached the platform. "Melvin, I have some questions about procedural justice…"
Melvin was still processing.
He'd prepared extensively for this trial, poring over regulations and case files, ready to verbally spar and maybe siphon some magical energy in the process.
But he hadn't expected Madam Marchbanks to steamroll the proceedings, ending the trial in under ten minutes without giving him a chance to shine.
Before he could respond, Dumbledore smiled. "Sorry, Professor Marchbanks, we have pressing matters and must return to Hogwarts."
"Goodbye, Professor Marchbanks," Melvin added, waving hastily as he followed Dumbledore.
Marchbanks, stunned, watched the old headmaster and young professor leave, then quietly turned and exited the chamber.
Instead of taking the lift out of the Ministry, the two found an empty room. Shadows enveloped them as Dumbledore raised a hand and called softly, "Fawkes."
Chirp!
With a clear cry, a burst of vibrant orange flame appeared, swallowing them both.
Their figures vanished in the firelight.
…
"Miss Granger, Professor Dumbledore and Professor Wright received an urgent letter from the Ministry this morning and have gone to London. Their time is valuable."
"Potter, I don't know how you found out about the Philosopher's Stone, but rest assured, no one can steal it. The protections are airtight."
"Enough, Weasley. This isn't something you should meddle in. I suggest you go outside and get some sun."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione trudged through the fourth-floor corridor, McGonagall's firm words still ringing in their ears. The deputy headmistress had been unyielding, and no amount of pleading had worked. They were on their own now.
Outside the room, they stared at the half-open door, their faces tense and serious.
Harry's complexion was pale, but his eyes burned with resolve. "Points don't matter anymore. Expulsion doesn't either. We have to get through that trapdoor and get the Stone first."
"You're right, Harry," Hermione said softly, clutching the candy Professor Wright had given her in her pocket.
Ron nodded firmly.
The trio slipped under the Invisibility Cloak and pushed open the door.
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